Ill Bit By Moonlight
by Unique .F
Summary: What if Moony had succeeded, back in fifth year? What if he had bitten Severus Snape before James Potter could drag him away? And what if...maybe...the Slytherins stand up for their own? Well, a lot of trouble, that's what...
1. Fool For Love

Chapter 1, Darkness Falling

"_**I don**__**'t understand my feelings. I really don't. I don't understand how I could hate you so much after so much time. How, no matter how much I'd like to not hate you, I hate you even more. It grows."**____**  
**__**―**____**Sam Shepard**__**,**____**Fool for Love**_

It was sunset, and it was very cold.

His breath made puffs of condensation in the air when he breathed and ice formed delicate lace on the grass that crunched beneath his feet. He drew his robes tighter around himself, pretending his racking shivers were all to do with the bone-chilling cold of a rapidly darkening Scottish evening.

Instead he looked up and behind, and saw the high, graceful towers of the school he called home rising against a flaming backdrop of the setting sun, casting lengthening shadows on the frozen ground. It was deep scarlet -the colour of pulsating ruby blood- and the clouds were outlined by dark purples and blues; heralding the arrival of dusk as it spread its inky wings across the land.

The air was sweet, fresh, and very cold. The spiky tops of the untamed forest ruffled in the wind like a rippling piny carpet. Frequent ribbons of glittering blue water twisted down from the mountains- great sweeping behemoths, like confident brush-strokes of thick black pen against the skyline- from stolid glaciers and glistening snow-packs, and ice edged their slower-moving corners. Splashes of colour, bright against the grey-green-brown of the damp grasses announced the few clusters of tough, hardwearing plants and flowers that had managed to thrive in this winter-locked place.

There was no snow on the ground yet, but he knew there would be. He'd stayed here for five winters, watching the bloody-reds of autumn fade into the bitterly cold whiteness of winter, and eventually bud into the bright, fresh vibrancy of sweet spring, and eventually into the lazy headiness of summer, chilly still despite the warmer months.

Forgiving the unshakable chill, Remus Lupin loved it. It was not Scotland; with its rugged terrain, copious rain and intense colours that always seemed vibrant and brimming with life and potential, though he would always cherish the country, and a small, private smile would curve his lips in remembrance- it was the school he attended there that he would always think of as home, in a part of his heart.

How couldn't he? Here, after all, he had made his first friends wandering the exhilarating magic-suffused halls. Here, he had sought a comfort from the curse he had been suffering with since a young child, and found it. Here, smiling came easy to a troubled youth and laughter rang freely in the air. Here, in the magical school of witchcraft and wizardry, he could be not the werewolf, not the terminal patient he pretended to be to the rest of the world at his parents' house, but Remus, just Remus.

Remus, or Moony, the fourth Marauder, quiet, bookish, sensible- but with wicked intelligence too often turned to pranks by mischievous friends, dry-witted and chocolate-addicted.

And that, more than anything, was what he craved. Normality, his own identity, held such importance to him, he who had been denied it, knowing that eventually, no matter how hard he fought he would lose himself to violent savagery, lose everything he was to a bloodthirsty monster. He hated, feared and dreaded it, but knew with the agonising pain it was inevitable, the endless cycle of pain, forgotten dreams, scars and blood, rising and falling with the pale white moon.

The moon he would never see round and full with its entire damning eye gazing down at the earth turning languidly below it with his own human eyes. No, he would see them with the maddened augmented eyesight of a wolf, the wolf that lived inside him, as much a parasitical part of him as his own name.

His companion quickened her stride, her breath coming faster in response to the ominous shadows starting to curl over the sky like the wings of mocking crows. He glanced at her, taking in with a single look her cheeks flushed with the cold, the clean, starchy whiteness of her hospital uniform, her quick breath, and her usually bright eyes dull with anxiety, before he dropped his gaze.

Another shudder wracked him, and he choked back the urge to vomit. Panic sank its icy claws into his belly- as it always did.

_What if he broke out? What if Prongs and Padfoot couldn't stop him? What if he bit someone? _

Oh God. _What if he bit someone? _He couldn't take the thought of it. To sentence another creature to the hell he experienced, the torture of the Change, the anguish of losing themselves, the terrible, terrible temptation, sweet and sharp as needle puncturing his flesh a thousand times over to _bite, _to _change, _to _dominate, _to _feed _the hunger, never quite gone, the ravening _need _he could never satisfy.

He wished, as he always did, knowing it a futile one as he did, that this moon would somehow be different, that he would change, that he'd be the same- _normal_. _Remus. _

But, as he always did, he pushed it away before he could formulate it, knowing it was worse to hope desperately and have them monthly dashed against the cruel, high rocks fate had them set them upon, then to never hope at all.

The shivers were coming faster now. He could feel the pain, barely starting, as the wolf within him began to stretch, luxuriously, knowing it's time was drawing near. Its claws crept insidiously around his heart, and its sweet rage –_so angry, _at being cooped up –prompted him, _Why wait? Change now- kill, kill, kill..._

He battled it down with the sad experience of many years. Even as he did so, Madam Pomfrey pressed a stick to the knot in the Whomping Willow. The tree's branches froze, as if mockingly parted to allow him entry into the playground of his nightmares.

Scrambling after the mediwitch, he ducked into the narrow throat of tunnel that pierced the earth down into the Shrieking Shack. How befitting that the moniker should be cultivated from his own torment, a house of ghouls created in the verdant crop of fearful man's thoughts for a monster's agony.

_Monster._

How he hated the word, which so adequately described all he was, even through all he pretended to be. Because he was not _just Remus, _he was _Moony, _he was a _werewolf, _and he hungered.

They were in the Shack now, the endless slipping and sliding through the dirty tunnel while the walls swooped beneath Remus' feet and the wolf stretched maliciously, causing his stomach to turn and revolt was done. Madam Pomfrey, perhaps sensing the urgency of the uncoiling beast, hurried Remus to his usual room.

It was a sad sight, the furniture long smashed apart by a ferocious animal –_him- _into smithereens and splinters. The spots of blood on the floor were worse, great pools of dried maroon, the monster-sap spilled from his own veins.

"I'll be back in the morning," Madam Pomfrey said, as she did every year. She offered him a weak smile Remus couldn't force himself to return and slipped out the door.

The lock clicked.

_Trapped._

He swallowed. The shudders, convulsions, really, were coming even faster now. With shaking fingers he managed to slip out of his robes and clothes, leaving himself in his underwear. Several times Madam Pomfrey had come back in the morning to found him crouched naked on the floor like a dirty, blood-streaked and wounded animal howling for freedom. He blessed the foresight that had caused him to untie his shoelaces and tie, unzip his trousers to leave them loosely held on by his belt and undo the buttons on his shirt, hiding the relatively rumpled state of undress with his long robes.

He reached up and stowed the clothes in an as yet undamaged cupboard above his head. He'd just closed the door when an almighty convulsion overcame him.

The resounding fury began to awaken. He hissed despite himself. _I am Remus, I am Remus, Remus, Remus, Remus..._

His nails scrabbled against the dirty floor. Nausea roiled and gutted in his stomach, he dry-heaved, but nothing came up. Pain shot along his limbs, as if someone had dropped acid right over his nerve endings.

_I am Remus._

He screamed, his back arching, bones cracking and replacing, elongating shifting warping _Changing..._His bones shifting and realigning, forcing themselves into alien shapes that felt both familiar and strange, his spine buckling and folding over, blood streaming from self-inflicted wounds on his body- _make the pain go away..._

_i am Remus_

Fur sprouted over his arms, fangs shot out of his gums, and agony, burning, burning pain, as if someone had set him on fire inside and out, heaving nausea as the room spun and changed around him, becoming sharper, different...The sharp tang of scents in his nose, blood, where was the blood?

_Remus_

He howled, raking claws down warping thighs. _Make it stop! _The pain was too much, he was going mad...Brutal vicious anger, he wanted to _kill, hunt..._Savagery overcame him, and trembling he gave in, his shrieks echoing in hoarse-desperation against the grimy walls of the Shack.

_remus_

He was caught up, whirled away like a limpet clinging desperately the last lifeline of his identity ripped its safe-haven, destroyed in a screaming maelstrom of agony and torturous rage. His claws _screeched _harshly on the floor as he fought to stand and collapsed at the same time.

_kill kill kill_

His amber eyes blazed as he pulled himself back up, snapping and snarling.

_re...kill_

His muscles cautiously tensed and pulled, checking for damages. Satisfied, teeth drew back over sharp blood-stained fangs, and a low, rich growl shook the air.

_kill_

The last of him slipped away, and he raised his muzzle, howling in victory and in fury. It was time to hunt.

**((()))**

James followed Sirius down the dark tunnel that led to the Shrieking Shack, already anticipating the fun they'd have roaming the moonlit grounds with Moony by their side. He smirked. If only Evans knew the real truth, that Moony wasn't a terminal patient, and that James, Peter and Sirius were all illegal Animagi...

_She'd explode, _he thought to himself wickedly. Longingly, he imagined if Evans was here too. He could almost see her, her hair gleaming like copper and her emerald eyes flashing brightly with excitement as she scolded them for making too much noise. She'd be a doe, he decided, a doe, for his stag. He found himself grinning foolishly, as he always did when he thought about her. She _was _gorgeous though.

Too bad she was still hanging around with the greasy git. _Why _would she hang around with a slimy Slytherin when she could spend her time with so many _better _people? Unconsciously he sneered at the thought of Snivells.

There was no one he hated more than Snivellous Snape, soon-to-be Death-Eater and practitioner of the Dark Arts. Because Snape had one thing that James had always wanted- he had Lily.

James could not fathom how or why Evans remained with that git. _Friends. _

_Yeah right, _he thought bitterly, _more likely he's buttering her up to use her as a sacrifice for his Dark Lord. _Just the thought made him bristle with fury. Not _his _Evans...Lilyflower...

And she was his...even if she didn't know it yet, James promised silently.

In front of him, Sirius stopped suddenly, and James ran into him. "Merlin, Padfoot!"

"Just because you were too busy daydreaming about Evans, Prongs," came the amused reply. "We're here."

Sheepishly, James glanced around and affirmed they were actually there. He was glad for the darkness- it hid his blush. "I was not," he protested. "It's too dark."

"Sure," Sirius drawled.

"Why isn't Moony making any noise?" James asked his friend. Peter squeaked beside him- he refused to change from Wormtail during full moon at all. Moony could barely be heard inside, snapping, snarling and growling, the harsh sounds of his claws ripping against the wooden floorboards much quieter than the usual maniacal display of brute power and strength the werewolf often showed.

Sirius shrugged, and then Changed. It only took a moment, barely a blink, and then a large shaggy black dog waited in front of the sealed door. Padfoot barked, and from inside they heard a loud howl as Moony recognised his packmate. As always, James felt a haunting shiver twist his spine at the eerie, hair-raising sound. All pretence of quiet immediately vanished and Moony threw himself at the door with the concussive sound of cannonfire against sinking ships. The rotted wooden door buckled, held only by Madam Pomfrey's careful wards.

Padfoot bumped his head against James' knee, his eyes black in the darkness shining with the bright enthusiasm only Padfoot could extrude.

"Wormy," James reminded him.

As a rat, Wormtail couldn't keep up with bounding Padfoot, fleet-footed Prongs or the barrelling strength of a moon-mad Moony. Usually, he curled into Prongs' huge rack of antlers, or into Padfoot's thick, shaggy ruff. This time it was James' turn to open the locked door and let Moony out, so he didn't have time to scoop Wormy up. Moony tended to be rather...difficult to control.

Padfoot allowed the fat brown rat to climb onto him, though he whined unhappily.

James nodded and carefully unsealed the door. He unlocked it, turned the handle, pushed it open and-

-in the nick of time, Changed into Prongs just as Moony came barrelling out of the open door. The werewolf snapped playfully at them, his burning amber eyes like torchlights in the dark. Already, there were several weeping gashes on his sides and legs from when he had Changed.

Revelling in the power of his Animagus shape, James took a brief moment to re-familiarize himself with Prongs' body- it wouldn't do to trip over all four of his feet. It had taken Sirius and James an embarrassingly long time to master their shapes properly. What made it even worse was that Peter seemed to take to his own form as naturally as a duck to water, for once in his life outdoing Sirius and James, despite how long it had taken him to transform.

Moony was already eagerly 'play'-fighting with Padfoot. The werewolf was easily larger than the Grim-like hound, and his ferocious teeth could quickly kill Padfoot with just one over-enthusiastic bite. To any untrained eye it would have looked like a deadly serious war of fur, fangs and fury, but James knew it was just Moony's particularly savage way of playing.

Prongs turned to the passage and began trotting down it, awkwardly bending his head to get through the doorway. He looked down at his worst enemy- _stairs. _Never would James ever laugh at dogs falling on their faces as they tried to navigate stairs. With four feet and a huge weight on his head, it was virtually impossible.

Suddenly, the wolf raised his head and sniffed, deeply. He raised his muzzle and howled, then took off back down the narrow passageway. Prongs swung his head to look at Padfoot in shock, but the Grim-like creature was already pounding after Moony as fast as he could.

_This isn't right, _James thought, panicked. They never went back through the tunnel, it was too difficult for Prongs and Padfoot to get through it, not to mention Moony.

Prongs galloped after them, cursing his magnificent rack of antlers he was usually so proud of. They restricted him to a low crawl as he pushed through the tunnel. Thankfully, Moony was hardly going fast either- the huge brindle-brown wolf was too large.

_This isn't working, _James thought grimly, and Changed. His feet hit the ground running and he charged after Moony, who shockingly, didn't even seem to notice that a live, munchable human had suddenly appeared in his midst. Alarm bells rang in James' head.

James' heart hammered as he charged, feeling the tingle of his magic as it suffused his muscles, strengthening them and speeding him up considerably. He overtook Padfoot quickly.

_He needed to get to Remus. _Somehow he knew something had gone wrong. Everything had turned deadly serious. A scant moment ago he was contemplating the fun he had laid out for the evening, and now he wondered if he would survive it with his life.

_Anything _could happen.

They burst into the cool night air, and James heard a very human scream.

His blood went cold.

_Moony was going to kill._

The thoughts scattered through his adrenaline pumped brain, and he skidded to a stop and fell over from his own momentum. His glasses fell off, plunging James into a blurry world of shifting shapes and colours.

But not even the dodgiest sight could misinterpret what was happening. Moony, a huge brownish shape, was rearing up over a small black figure that seemed too stunned to move. James gasped. He had to act.

He charged forward, heading blindly for the person. "MOVE!" He screamed at them, and pushed them savagely out the way. He heard the person scream, vaguely noted somewhere it sounded familiar- and was knocked off his feet with the force of a tonne of bricks. Moony snarled ferociously, and James felt his gut roil with terror as his world suddenly became a snarling face of brown.

_So this is how it ends, _he thought, and suddenly, thought of Evans.

"JAMES!" It was Sirius, now, that screamed, distracting Moony.

The werewolf's snarl faltered in confusion. Where there had once been packmates now was prey, which smelled like pack? Moony tried to make sense of the distinction, but his lunar mad wolf mind was unable to comprehend it.

Snapping back to reality, James Changed. His form blurred and shifted and he landed lightly on Prongs' feet. With Prongs' sharp eyes he saw Moony charging at Sirius, who was scrambling desperately out of the way. The brindle-wolf howled as something shattered beneath his paw- James thought it might have been his glasses.

Prongs hurtled at Moony, his antlers lowered threateningly. He caught the werewolf on the shoulder, jarring the wolf's course enough to make him half-yelp and whirl around to face his new threat. Padfoot barked and jumped up at Moony, and the wolf whipped his head from side to side, confused, smelling the delectable prey-scent...but where?

Suddenly, Moony howled in rage, his eyes burning with challenge and Prongs instinctively reared. The movement saved his life as the hugest jet-black wolf he had ever seen slammed into his back with the force of an avalanche.

**Unique- So, there's the first chapter. Not-so-mysterious new werewolf? Will Prongs survive? **

**Peter- What happened to me? I vanished after we let Moony out.**

**James- Yeah, where'd Wormtail go?**

**Sirius- (wisely) He disappeared into the ether that all characters inhabit when the author forgets about them. **

**Peter- (glumly) Oh great. The graveyard of Unique's mind.**

**Unique- That's a morbid thought for you to have...Must be my influence. ;) R&R!**


	2. The Meaning of Life

**Excuse begins- Okay, I was on holiday, and being the smart person that I am I utterly forgot to bring the charger for my laptop, so barely a paragraph in my laptop died on me, and thus I was forced to wait in absolute irritability until we got home to finish the chapter, and from then on update it. *sheepish smile* **

Chapter Two

"_**A fight is going on inside me. It is a terrible fight between two wolves. One wolf is evil. He is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego. The other wolf is good. He is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside you. Which wolf will win? The one you feed."**____**  
**__**―**____**Wendy Mass**__**,**____**Jeremy Fink and the Meaning of Life**_

The Headmaster sighed wearily, rubbing an aged hand over his wrinkled brow. A throbbing headache persisted at his temples despite the quick, foul-tasting potion he had gulped down earlier that night. The desk lamps were lit, and the brilliance of the full moon shone through the window, bathing the cluttered study in softly and gilding the delicate, whirring and clicking instruments bright white.

Outside he could hear the night-time howls of wolves, in quiet, aching laments, their voices climbing over and harmonising with the sweet savagery of nature. The unearthly sound caused a shiver to run up his spine, and he remembered he really must attempt to make the Forbidden Forest somewhat safer...

He sighed. The chair groaned.

The seat was uncomfortable, but he was too tired to shift to another sore spot. He'd been sitting in it for too long, he thought.

_I have no one to give it to, _he reminded himself, dredging energy up from somewhere to lift his quill in his creased fingers.

He dipped the quill in the inkpot, and then began to write in flowing, practised lines.

_Dear Minister..._the letter started.

He needed to address this matter sensitively. Muggleborns just could not afford this recent added tax, else there would be a much higher increase in Muggles 'refusing' for their children to attend, and then mind-altering magic would have to be resorted to. The Ministry could simply not afford to have untrained witches and wizards with full knowledge of the magical world running around. Albus hated it when he had to contact the Ministry to have families Obliviated and cores bound...

Abraxas Malfoy was no doubt behind this most recent scheme, he knew, for he was very sure that the elder Malfoy was equally as invested in Lord Voldemort's power-play as his younger son. Despite accusations, he was aware of Death-Eater activity in the school...but his hands were tied. What could he do? Expel them, where they'd be out of his sight, or keep them at school and try to damage-control?

An agonised howl from outside made him jump, and his quill skated across the letter, ruining it. He dismissed the flicker of anger and rose quickly, heading to the window. He looked out, but could distinguish nothing in the moon-shadowed night.

Who would be out at this time?

_Remus Lupin, _he thought, the young werewolf he had allowed school and board here. But how did he get out of the Shrieking Shack? Poppy had taken him up there, hadn't she?

"_ALBUS!"_

Poppy Pomfrey's Patronus exploded through the door to his study. Albus leapt to his feet, his nerves chipped away by years of wartime, his wand in hand. Barely a second afterwards he began to regret his fast actions- he was no longer as young as he used to be.

"_WEREWOLF IS FREE!"_

The Patronus vanished.

((()))

The two wolves slammed into each other with the sound of two enormous boulders colliding.

Lips curled back over sharp white teeth gleaming with blood as they ripped into each other's flesh.

Feverish-bright amber eyes glowing in the darkness like eerie molten gold, four beacons of insanity.

Claws _screeching _against rock as one huge wolf leapt to its feet with the hair-raising sound of nails down a blackboard.

Teeth, bright, bright white in the silver-gilded darkness.

Blood, hot steaming blood splashing over his prone form, blood pouring down his maimed flanks.

Breath gasping in his throat, air desperately sucked in to fuel the dizzying whirl of his brain.

Stars flashing in his eyes.

_I'm going to die._

The thought hit him like a lightning bolt, activating animalistic instincts long-buried by careful restraint and many hours of practice. There was nothing James could do. Nothing...

He saw all this as memory flashes, hazy and indistinct in between, sharp, brutal moments of clarity forever engraved in his memory. For years to come he would look into the mirror and see instead of his own visage the tortured eyes of Severus Snape, twisted, warped, burning with agony and moonlit madness- the curse James and his friends had condemned him to ever-present.

The stag's small feet scrabbled against the cloddy earth. He threw back his great head, a wounded cry of pain leaving him despite his efforts. Panting, he collapsed back against the ground, his sides heaving as blood poured out of his wounds like zebra stripes.

The long gashes, jaggedly asymmetrical, raked from his shoulders down to his hindquarters where the gigantic black wolf- larger than Moony, but rake thin, and its shaggy black fur overlong, its eyes vehement with intense fury, had leapt on him, pouncing on him like a cat on a mouse.

Bleeding, he was easy prey, but neither wolf deigned to look at him. They were too busy ripping each other to pieces with infuriated, territorial snarls.

He struggled upward, panting and gasping, his front hooves digging into the blood-soaked soil for support. Stars swam before his eyes and his head pounded with lack of blood.

_I'm going to die._

It sent a burst of panicked energy into him and Prongs surged to his feet, barely restraining himself from falling right back down again. Through blurring shapes as he struggled to retain his animagus form, he could see Padfoot leaping at the two furious werewolves, struggling to turn Moony away from Snape. _Snape. _That couldn't be him. But no one else was there- and Peter and Padfoot weren't stupid enough to change with Moony loose. He struggled to connect the dots in his head, but they slipped away like greased snakes in his hands.

The black wolf was inflicting a lot of damage, fighting with a wild savagery of a rabid animal that Moony did not possess. The brindle wolf Prongs had always thought so fearsome looked tame in comparison to the fury incarnate that howled and growled before him. Moony fought back, but reservedly, using tactics to weaken the other wolf, snapping at his legs, trying to tire him out. The black wolf's energy seemed boundless, a never-ending supply of righteous wrath.

Pettigrew had scurried off somewhere, no doubt.

A soft cry and the thump of wings alerted him to a new presence. Prongs looked up, turning his head this way and that, trying to discern the new threat with his fading eyes. A blood-red-gold phoenix soared out of the night, his beak opened, and began to sing.

Soft, calming music washed over him, and slowly Prongs sank to his knees. Why fight? The lament was sad and mournful, like looking into a pool of ink, and he found himself falling into it, falling..falling...falling..

The stag's head hit the floor, and through lowered eyelids he watched as blurry humanoid shapes rushed towards them in long, sweeping robes. One cried out in a powerful voice and magic _cracked _through the air, and a wolf sailed past his eyeline, howling as it landed viciously against the cold, hard ground. He couldn't tell what colour it was. It struggled to its feet, but harsh ropes whipped out of nowhere and bound it, forcing it, screaming, to its knees.

Muzzled, broken, chained, the wolf howled in rage. It fought.

He could feel a slow, uncomfortable prickling over his back and air washing against skin that felt too sensitive for a deerskin. He blinked lazily, tasting blood, but he could see nothing. Hair, lank with sweat, fell into his eyes, but he couldn't lift an iron-heavy hand to push it away.

Distorted sounds ruled the darkness rapidly encroaching at the edges of his vision. A woman's horrified cry. A man's voice, threatening and low with the crackling undertone of powerful magics, and a wolf's howl, lonely, sad, furious, and through it all the phoenix song, calming, gentle, coaxing him to slip away...

As he did, the last thing he felt was a soft, caressing touch on his shoulder and Lily whispering his name into his ear.

"_...James..."_

"_...James..."_

"_...james..."_


	3. Bertrand Russel

Chapter Three

"_**War does not determine who is right- only who is left." –Bertrand Russell**_

Everything had gone white.

Was he blind?

He didn't know. He could feel that he was laying down somewhere soft, wearing a thin nightshift. He guessed there were blankets too (judging by the warmth,) and that the comfortable thing his head rested on was a pillow. He could smell the clean, starchy smell of freshly washed linens, which reassured him somewhat. Vaguely he could hear the low murmur of voices and the _clink _of potion bottles. Nearby, someone snored.

He was on his stomach, which was uncomfortable, but he needed no explanation. His sides and back ached in long, thin lines, though the pain seemed oddly dulled, as if he'd been drugged.

James opened his eyes. The blurry shape of a carved wall was before him, the same brown-yellow sandstone as the rest of Hogwarts. He was then, still in the school. Turning his head, James noticed a small bedside table next to his bed, an indistinct greyish-white blob. He spotted what he guessed was his glasses on top and unthinkingly reached for them.

His wounds exploded into agony, and James for all his attempts was unable to halt a cry of pain from leaving his lips. Helplessly he lay perfectly still, unwilling to risk aggravating them any more, despite the fact that it was severely uncomfortable to lay half-twisted.

"You're awake, then," said a cold, disapproving voice. James recognised her as Madam Pomfrey. He wondered what he'd done wrong to get in her bad books. "It hurts?"

James tried to speak, but his voice cracked and broke. He tried again. "Yeah," he managed to whisper.

"Where?" the medi-witch asked curtly. "Sides, back?"  
"Yeah," James repeated hoarsely, "my throat, too."

"Stay there," she ordered, and he saw her dim white shape bustle away. He closed his eyes, wishing he had his glasses on. It made him feel vulnerable, not being able to see.

Desperately he tried to conjure any memory of the previous night. He had a terrible foreboding about it. Something about...wolves...

_Moony!_

Had they been discovered? Like a floodgate, a crazy impression of razor-sharp hyper-sensitive images, fragmented and strange, flashed in his mind.

_A teenager's agonised scream. The snarl of a wolf..._

_Jet black and massive, the vicious monster collided..._

_Blood splattering the rocks..._

_Shatter of glass glinting in the light..._

_Agony against his back- _im going to die

_._...and Snape.

It rushed back, and James' eyes widened with horror. Snape had been _bitten. _He'd turned into a werewolf, fought with Moony...

_Dear Merlin, _thought James, _what have I done? _He remembered Remus' tormented face when he spoke about his affliction, how he truly believed he was a monster, _dangerous..._

James could not begin to comprehend the soul-crushing guilt Remus' must have felt.

_I could've stopped it, _James thought numbly. And then, _why the crap was Snape even there, anyway?_

He puzzled over this for a moment, but his musings were interrupted by Madam Pomfrey returning with a vial of dark red potion. It looked like blood. James swallowed.

"Drink this," she told him brusquely, tipping the cool bottle against his lips. Obediently James opened his mouth and swallowed it. He nearly choked.

It tasted thick and sickly sweet, like syrup. It made him feel almost nauseous. Nonetheless he swallowed it down, grimacing. Immediately, it made him feel better, as if he had just drunk a glass of ice-cold water on a hot summers day. The barest beginnings of a headache and the pain on his back faded and the itching in his throat was soothed.

"Here," said Madam Pomfrey, and pushed something cool and metallic on his nose. James blinked as suddenly the world came into focus. "They're only temporary constructs, and they'll break if you do too much magic, but they'll last you until you can get a new pair." She nodded frostily and marched off.

Blinking, James surveyed his surroundings with clearer vision.

He was in the Hospital Wing, no doubt. At the end of the ward, James could see the bed set aside for Remus, with the curtains drawn up around, shielding it from view. His worry for his friend reached a high maximum. What would Remus do when he found out what he'd done?

In the bed beside him, Sirius rasped a doglike snore and shifted slightly on the bed. James examined his sleeping friend, but he couldn't see anything wrong with him other than several slashes across his shoulders, obviously from glancing paws.

Other than Padfoot and Moony, there was only one student in the Hospital Wing, a thin, pale-looking second-year girl reading a thick Herbology textbook. It was quiet, and James was reminded of the sacrosanct air of the library.

Alone, with nothing to occupy his attention, James' thoughts again returned to dwell on the awful happenings of what he guessed were the night previous, judging by the small calendar on the wall he could now see. He barely remembered Dumbledore and Pomfrey running in on the scene- he'd been pretty injured at that point.

_So they know, _he thought, with a sinking feeling. He wondered what the punishment would be. Exclusion? Far more serious than detentions. Would they _expel _them?

For the first time James remembered Wormtail. He must have scarpered, he realised angrily. Just like Peter to run off whenever something happened. Annoyance soured in James' heart. Peter was just so...pathetic. If it weren't for the fact he had to go _somewhere, _James would've thought he couldn't have gotten into any house. He wasn't evil, like Slytherin, he wasn't exactly brave, and he wasn't clever.

Actually, he might have suited Hufflepuff, James thought to himself, Peter was a bit of a sycophantic pushover.

_Where the hell was Snape? _He wondered again. Surely he would have been recovering, like Remus? If his memory was correct (James swallowed) then Snivells...Snape...was a werewolf, now. He gulped dryly again. Snivelly Snape, practitioner of the Dark Arts, future Death-Eater, evil Slytherin...

_Evans, laying broken and bloodied on a muddy forest floor, her shirt stained as red as her hair, her green eyes dull, never to flash in anger again, great, vicious wounds encrusted with dark ruby liquid in her neck._..

Dead.

Gone.

Forever.

_No!_ the horror of the vision was too much. Evans...not _his _Evans...Oh Merlin. There was no doubt in him that Snivells would run straight to the Death-Eater camp...He'd probably get some sort of sick enjoyment out of ripping people apart, like Fenrir Greyback...

_Merlin, Moony._

Would he be expelled? Turned over to the Ministry? Branded? Caged? He shuddered. _Killed? _Dumbledore had offered Remus sanctuary. But would he hold it- now that he knew Remus had attacked another student, even if it was just a Slytherin?

"What have we done?" James whispered. "Oh Merlin, what have we done?"

((()))

His face burned with shame. He fidgeted uncomfortably on the unyielding wooden chair, unable to meet the Headmaster's eyes. Dumbledore stared down at them with hard blue eyes, like chips of ice. There was no twinkle in the usually cheerful wizard's eyes now, and the bowl of lemon drops on his desk remained forgotten.

"Just what," asked Dumbledore; the disapproval and disappointment in his eyes, tone and face were so heavy that all three boys cringed and ducked lower than possible in their uncomfortable, rigid wooden chairs Dumbledore had conjured; "did you think you were doing?"

The three Marauders had never felt so downtrodden and ashamed of themselves. For James and Sirius, it was an entirely new, unwelcomed sensation, and James found himself cowering away from the look in Dumbledore's eyes. The headmaster had always seemingly had a soft spot for the adventurous Gryffindors, and he'd never disciplined them before. Somehow hearing the disappointment and heavy sadness in his voice was even worse than a raging fury.

"...We..." James began. He couldn't take the thick silence any longer, with Dumbledore staring disapprovingly down at them over his half-moon glasses, waiting expectantly for their inadequate answer. His voice failed as the headmaster's eyes turned their full attention on him.

_Where the hell is that Gryffindor bravery?_ He snarled to himself, and hating the shake in his voice, he said weakly, "…We…we wanted to help Mo- Remus." James' face flushed even darker at the almost-mistake.

"A noble goal," Dumbledore said scathingly, "But a foolish method. Today, you destroyed another student's life. Did you not see the effect of lycanthropy on Mr Lupin? Or did you not care?" His gaze turned to Sirius now, and the young Black dropped his eyes, "Or _perhaps," _Dumbledore continued, his voice heavy with insinuation, "You thought it was a _joke?"_

Sirius' face bleached of all colour, and he gave James a pleading, frightened look James couldn't interpret.

"Perhaps," assumed Dumbledore, "you thought that Mr Snape did not matter? Or perhaps even, you disregarded him because of his House? Maybe you _encouraged _him to find out a secret not yours to keep and _risk his life for your own amusement_!" Dumbledore bellowed. The venerable headmaster suddenly did not look old and friendly. Magic crackled and whirled, blue ribbons frissioned and danced around him. Fawkes on his perch screeched. Dumbledore's eyes spat sparks.

Paling, James looked to Sirius. Plaster-white and shaking, Sirius looked wreaked with guilt. Peter beside him was shivering in terror. But then, Sirius did the unthinkable. "He was only a slimy Slytherin Death-Eater," he muttered angrily, his grey eyes burning with the hatred he always associated with his family and their type, "what does it matter if he died?"

James gaped. Peter whimpered.

_Sirius _had given away their secret? Told Snape to come down to the Whomping Willow at moonrise? Had hated Snape so much that he would risk _Moony _for it? _Remus, Remus. _His guilt came flooding back, held briefly at bay by his own shock at the depth of Sirius' hatred for the greasy-haired potions genius. Remus. Would Remus ever forgive himself for the curse he had bestowed on Snape?

"You?" James whispered, but his fragile words were drowned out by Dumbledore's rage.

"_ONLY A SLYTHERIN?" _Dumbledore roared. Vicious chains of magic snapped around them, the headmaster's silver hair haloed around him like a lion's mane. "_DOESN'T MATTER IF HE DIED? YOU ARE A MURDERER, SIRIUS BLACK!" _With some difficulty, Dumbledore closed his eyes and attempted to regain control.

"Nine-hundred points from Gryffindor each." Dumbledore said, voice now controlled, though it shook with anger and he did not open his eyes. "You will all receive counseling and are suspended from this school until you are no longer a danger to its students. _If _you ever return, there will be no more excursions and you will be chaperoned until you can prove yourself responsible enough to go without it. Futhermore, I will bind each of your cores before you leave. Magic will be untouchable for you until you can prove that you deserve it."

James wanted to protest against the overly harsh punishment- he and Peter had had no hand in it! –but he knew better, especially now, and the headmaster's explosion had badly shaken his confidence. Outlawed from magic? Suspended from school? And _counseling? _He didn't need therapy, he wasn't insane!

"You have got off lightly, very lightly indeed," the Headmaster glared down at them coldly, "had I not been able to prevent the Ministry from hearing of this, you would have gotten Azkaban. Leave! Return to your common room. You will come to my office tomorrow at eight o clock tomorrow morning. Need I tell you that none of this is to be gossiped about to your housemates?" James shook his head, barely. Peter was trembling too hard to anything but sit there. Sirius was deathly pale. "Go," said Dumbledore tiredly, "Go."  
They went, leaving their chairs gratefully and practically running to escape the headmaster's critical eye.

When they reached the hallway, Sirius finally said, "Guys, Prongs-"

"Shut up, Black," James hissed harshly, rounding on Sirius. "What were you thinking? Didn't you think about Remus at all? The effect this will have had on him?" He glared at him disgustedly. "You're just like your family after all."

Sirius reeled back, tears in his grey eyes. "Ja-"

"Come on Peter," James snarled, "We don't associate with Death-Eater filth." He turned around and stalked away, blind to everything but his fury, even to the sounds of Sirius sobbing, abandoned, at the foot of the gargoyle statue.


	4. The Fault in Our Stars, John Green

**Quote for LilyTris-the-divergent-llama. ;-) **

Chapter Four

"_**The pleasure of remembering had been taken from me, because there was no longer anyone to remember with. It felt like losing your co-rememberer meant losing the memory itself, as if the things we'd done were less real and important than they had been hours before."**____**―**____**John Green**__**,**____**The Fault in Our Stars**_

She missed him.

She never realised how much she had taken for granted his constant presence. The world seemed strange when her eyes slid to the Slytherin table and saw his space empty, or when she leaned over for a hand with her potion and found his cauldron clean, or when she sat at her desk in the library and stared expectantly at the door, never realising she was still waiting for him, until he was no longer there.

It was as if he'd been a constant in her life for so long; the oddly-dressed, scruffy boy from the house down the street, the hurting, broken soul collapsed on her doorstep on a rainy night, her constant gnawing worry, slipping into darkness, her study partner, the boy who had revealed everything of her precious new world to her, the boy who became her confidante, her best-friend, the boy who was _always _there, come rain or shine, _always _there for her to depend on. Lily had never been alone, solitary, or had to deal with the hungry _need _for companionship but being too shy to approach.

Her grades had also suffered an embarrassing knock. Lily hadn't quite realised how much it helped to have the quiet, clever potions genius perfectly willing to share his homework and spend ceaseless hours in the library (the one place they knew Potter and his friends would never haunt) studying, chatting quietly, laughing together. She missed the shared jokes, she missed the way she was the constant of his attention. In his unassuming way, he'd always been there.

And _she'd _always been there, archly commanding his attention, yet dismissing him whenever it suited her, secure in the knowledge he would faithfully return to her when she next called him. Insidious feelings of shame squirmed within her.

But _where _was he? He wouldn't have gone away without sending her an owl at least. Or saying goodbye. He must have been taken away...The Headmaster said he'd fallen ill, diagnosed with a serious illness.

Was he dying? Was he, wherever he was, thinking of her, as she thought of him? Did he wonder about how she was doing, as she did for him? Did he constantly look up, expecting to see her as he turned into his classroom, or begin talking and find her not there, or wake up screaming in the night, knowing, knowing she was gone, as she did always for him?

Lily wrapped her cloak tighter around herself, leaning against the bark of the solitary tree. It matched her mood perfectly- thick, pelting rain, with gloomy grey skies that promised only more misery. She'd cast a small charm to keep the weather away from herself as she did her homework, but staring up at the rain pattering against the leaves, she wished she hadn't.

She had no energy for homework.

She almost wished for Potter and his interfering, irritating attempts at asking her out. At least it would be a decent conversation. Lily sank miserably into her cloak, musing that if she had sunk so far to admit _Potter _was a good conversationalist, she hadn't much further to sink. Potter and his little band had also been suspended from the school- "upon further notice." Lily had not liked the chilly look in the teachers' eyes when the Headmaster had said that. She wondered what it was that was so bad it got them suspended.

"Oh God!" What if...what if they had fatally injured Severus? Now she thought about it, the connection was too clear. Remus was often known to not like his friends' pranks on Severus, and _he _hadn't been suspended. She'd have to ask him. Convinced now that it had been Potter, Black and Pettigrew that had caused her own best friend's absence, Lily bridled with rage. She'd _kill _that arrogant ass! No one, _no one _touched _her _friend! He was _hers!_

Pushing herself to her feet, Lily swung her bag over her shoulder and took off straight for the Gryffindor common room. Her feet drummed against the ground as she dashed through the rain. Though she chafed at the restriction to her wrath, Lily slowed when she entered the castle. Running, after all, was forbidden in the corridors.

Nonetheless it did not stop her from striding quickly and dodging friendly greetings from housemates whom recognised her. About halfway to the common room, Lily got a sinking feeling that told her she was being followed.

She glanced behind her surreptitiously. There they were -a group of about six Slytherins, all with the same menacing, murderous expression. Suddenly, Lily realised she was very alone- she'd not seen anyone else for a little while now...

Fear caused her legs to turn to jelly as the Slytherins, smirking maliciously, began to quicken their pace, catching up to her. Lily felt hunted, a mouse running round and round in a cage watched by a sinuous, hungry nest of vipers.

"Hey, Mudblood!" one of them called. He had a heavy, squarish face, and Lily recognised him as Severus' roommate, Mulciber.

Lily walked faster. It hurt, being called mudblood, but she knew they were just stupid Slytherins- racist arrogant pricks. Why Sev had been sorted into that house...although she could not picture him as a kindly Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw, even maybe Gryffindor? No, he was too calculating, too cold for Gryffindor...

"Where you going, mudblood?" Bellatrix jeered.

"Yeah Evans," another that looked so shockingly like Sirius Black Lily thought it was indeed the Marauder for a brief moment until she remembered that Sirius wasn't a Slytherin. It must be his brother Regulus, she thought. Severus' friend.

They were surrounding her now, backing her into a wall. Lily's eyes flicked desperately between their cold, furious faces, and knew there was no way out. Lucius Malfoy slammed her up against the wall, winding her. His cold grey eyes pierced straight through her.

"What did you do to Severus Snape?" he snarled.

Regulus stepped up beside the older boy, glowering at Lily furiously. Beside him, Narcissa glared at Lily, disdainfully sweeping her eyes over Lily's body, and Lily suddenly felt very inadequate next to the beautiful blonde and her fiery-eyed, dark haired, tempestuous sister, Bellatrix.

The six of them crowded round her, demanding Severus' whereabouts. Avery was the first one to throw a hex. They laughed as Lily's legs gave way and she collapsed at their feet. Ringed by sneering faces, Lily panicked. "I don't know!" she cried. "I don't know where he is!"

"Liar," Regulus snarled, grasping her wrist roughly. Lily jerked away from him. Mulciber kicked her in the stomach harshly, causing Lily to gasp. Bellatrix laughed.

"I don't know..." she sobbed, over and over, as they pelted her with curses and punches, kicking her again and again, jeering and calling her filthy names. Lily's sight began to blur as she curled up in foetal ball, trying to fall away from the pain wracking her body.

_Severus! _She cried out, but he did not answer.

Shivering, her vision blurred, whimpering with pain, she dimly heard Narcissa call her fellows off, hear her whispering something calming to Regulus, and then them walking away...

...leaving her alone, shivering and aching.

Lily called and called, but he didn't answer. He left her alone...

Lily was alone...

...alone...

Some hours later, she was aware of a warm pair of arms encircling her and Remus Lupin's masculine sigh. "I knew it," she heard a wolf growl softly, "I'm sorry, Evans."

((()))

"It's no use," sighed the healer, staring down at his patient regretfully," give him Peace."

His aide nodded sharply. Her thin lips curved up in a wicked sneer as she observed the struggling 'patient'. With ungraceful, jerky movements, as if she were unused to her body, the tall, skinny, wild woman uncorked a potion bottle and crouched down. She pressed the bottle to the lips of the struggling, fevered patient, screaming and yanking against his restraints, and tipped it backwards.

Wide lupine eyes blinked as the thin, pale teenager choked on the draught of Peace. Eventually, his straining muscles relaxed, despite the animal panic in his glowing golden eyes. His limbs sheened with sweat lay limply as his long black hair, which reached his shoulders. It fell in straggly lines around his pallid, feverish bright face. His head lolled onto his shoulder, and he moaned softly.

"These wounds are going to be nasty," the healer lamented. "I need to get closer- can you bind him up, please?"

The oddly clumsy aide smirked again and produced something from her belt- a long strip of cured leather. Roughly she gagged the teenager, ignoring his startled, Peace-blurred growl. The healer glanced away, paling beneath his tan, as with the same inconsideration, the tall, thin, dangerous woman wrapped choking chains around the teenager's forearms, legs and belly, avoiding the wounds. The boy jerked awake, a painful whimper escaping his lips. His drugged, weary eyes slid around the room, unable to understand anything through the fog of his wolf mind. The diluted silver in the chains hurt him.

With a similar disgust, the woman jumped away from the chains, a snarl drawing her thin lips over teeth too sharp to be human.

Trying to put her out of his mind, the healer knelt beside the struggling werewolf. Ted Tonks' compassionate eyes held those of the frightened, confused wolf- for there was no human in that burning amber-gold stare. Though it wore a human body it did not understand, the wolf was very much present in the recently-Changed werewolf.

He held the furious gaze as the werewolf bucked in his restraints, angry snarls escaping his mouth. Ted didn't have to know Legilimency to know what the fifteen year-old wolf was thinking. _Kill...kill...kill..._

He forced his own unease and apprehension away. This child needed his help, and Dumbledore had asked him to heal and help.

Ted wished that the other werewolf in the room wasn't necessary; Rotted-Branch was more than a little inhuman. Ted couldn't help but mentally snicker. What kind of name was 'Rotted-Branch'? Apparently it was in the custom of her people, to name themselves after the first things they saw. Ted assumed they meant the first thing they saw through their wolf eyes, as Rotted-Branch came from a werewolf pack. Ted didn't ask how she came to owe Dumbledore a favour.

Nonetheless, to 'reduce the risk of the feral werewolf infecting him' Rotted-Branch would be handling all contact when Ted's patient wasn't gagged. Ted was pretty sure that werewolves couldn't infect humans when in their human-form, but as Dumbledore had pointed out to him, young Severus' shifts were so unstable and so sudden it took him barely a fraction of the time a normal werewolf would take to shift.

At last, Severus' eyes slid from his, and he admitted defeat. This had been Rotted-Branch's idea, oddly enough, appeal to his wolf instincts before his human ones.

After the first week, Ted had no choice but to try it. He'd never met someone so _angry. _Someone, in Rotted-Branch's words, so perfectly suited to his wolf. In Ted's words, _damn suicidal!_

But Severus Snape could not be let out until he mastered control over his wolf and learned how to not change unless it was completely necessary, like at the full moon, just as Remus had.

Ted barely managed to scramble back in time as he blinked, and suddenly Severus was no longer a lanky teen but a spitting, snarling werewolf, thrashing against his tightening restraints, chained, muzzled, bound...

...but never broken.

**Aww...Yay...some finally, Snily, even if it is mild, one-sided and only if you squint extra hard with special fan-X-ray-OTP-glasses on... **


	5. Memoirs of a Teenage Amnesiac

Chapter Five

"**It was strange, really. A couple months ago, I had thought I couldn't live without him. Apparently I could."****―****Gabrielle Zevin****,**_**Memoirs of a Teenage Amnesiac**_

_Green._

_Emerald green, interspersed with brilliant turquoise and deep sapphire, slanting through the latticed treetops. Vague shapes formed blurry outlines the longer it stared at them, tall, proud tree trunks, thicker around than its entire body. The colours were distorted, changed, bright, poisonous green shrubbery, brown-black trunks, and yawning shadows in between. The haziness developed a distinctly menacing feel, and it knew it needed to move on._

_It walked forwards, without walking. It could feel none of the thick undergrowth brushing its legs, nor the air against its skin. Some part of it felt oddly disconcerted by the lack of these sensations but it did not listen. It knew only a vague memory that it had once been a body, once had senses, thoughts and feelings. It didn't try and remember how it used to be, it could only remember a glossy waterfall of blood._

_Drifting forwards, it noticed it was entirely alone. There were no animals, no birds singing in the trees, no insects buzzing to pollinate the vibrant, too vibrant flowers. The still forest felt like a snapshot, suspended within time. It knew it only had a limited time here._

_Finally, it reached a clearing. It paused, feeling the stirrings of unease. It knew, it just knew, that if it looked out of the protective embrace of the trees, it would never be able to return._

_Suddenly, it heard a long, low, agonised howl. Instinctively, it stepped forward. The choking branches surrounded it, holding it tight, whipping against it. It cried out, but nothing answered._

_The branches were gone. It stepped forward triumphantly- and then screamed._

_It was a play park, a play park very familiar to it, that sang of a time long past. There were swings, and a scraped roundabout. In the chains of the swings, twisted up, cutting harshly into his flesh, was a wolf._

_He was large, and jet-black, black as night. The chains had caused open sores that bled thickly into his dark coat. He looked up at her pleadingly with amber eyes that burned dull gold with misery._

_It wanted to cry out and fall to its knees, comfort him somehow, but there was more yet to come._

_Even as it watched, a large stag stepped into the clearing, neck raised archly. The wolf struggled helplessly, but a large phoenix with feathers blacker than the wolf's coat swept down and scratched the wolf's eyes out with its claws. The wolf made no protest, but lay there with tears leaking out of his ruined amber eyes, as the stag stood over it, magnificent head raised gloatingly._

"_STOP!" she cried, finally remembering herself, her name was Lily, and that was-_

She woke up screaming!

Lily bolted upright, gasping harshly for breath. The horrific prescience of the dream remained with her even as its details faded away slowly within her mind. Her nerves thrilled within her, she was gripped with the alarm of prey on a hunt.

Slowly, she forced herself to relax against the bed, attempting to clear her mind and soothe her jangling feelings. _Just a dream..._she reminded herself. _Just a dream._

Uneasily, she tossed to and fro, surprised that her dormitory mates didn't awake from the racket. She closed her eyes, but as soon as she did she pictured leering shadows preparing to jump down on her and devour her whole, and her eyes would shoot open.

It took well over an hour for Lily to finally drift back to sleep. As she did so, the dream drifted from her mind, leaving behind one, last, poignant reminder-

_Amber gold eyes, burning with loss, pain, and need, pleading with her..._save me, saveme...

((()))

Regulus Black was not pleased.

He was in fact, distinctly infuriated.

The reasons were, of course, pertaining to idiotic Gryffindors that did not know their place- the bottom of any Slytherin's shoe. (_They won't ever learn)_ I.E, his brother.

Normally, he would have been ecstatic to see his brother splintered from his little friends, alone, moping and miserable. But as always, Sirius had a wonderful way of taking his rage out on Slytherins. I.E, his brother.

Regulus had learned quickly that walking the corridors of Hogwarts alone was just begging for his brother to jump out from behind a statue and hex him into hospitalization. _(Weak!)_

He wished again that Severus was still at school. His older friend- more like a brother to him than his own relation _(and how ashamed Regulus was to have to admit to sharing blood with Sirius) _would be easily able to destroy the Gryffindor now he was separated from his friends. It galled him to admit it, but Regulus was not the Dark-Arts prodigy that Severus was, although he was top of his year (_true _Blacks would settle for nothing less) and didn't even begin to measure with the skill the older boy had in Potions.

He didn't trust Dumbledore's words that Severus was ill at all. The old fool was senile in his old age- he couldn't even see the recruitment of the Death-Eaters in his own school! (_You believe that?)_

Not that Regulus was complaining, he hastily thought, remembering his own ambitions to become one of those powerful shrouded figures fighting for pureblood freedom. _Then _he'd be able to show his family that he was better than Sirius. _(They spend all their time torturing people. You want in?)_ And wasn't he already? _(You'll never be as good as Sirius...pathetic baby.) _A Slytherin, not a Gryffindor, and _he _knew how to keep the correct company. No cavorting with Mudbloods for him... _(Halfbloods, though?)_

The thought of Mudbloods made him think of Evans. He felt faintly guilty for the attack they'd sprung on her. Not because of her- no, she could crawl off and die for all he cared, (_that was a lie) _but because she was Severus' friend... _(just friends?) _And if the halfblood were still in school, no doubt he'd hamstring Regulus for daring to do more than mutter 'Mudblood' as he passed her in the halls.

The Black scowled darkly at the textbook he was supposed to be reading and muttered, "Soft-heart." _(You're calling _him _soft-hearted, Mr I-Don't-Want-To-Hex-Hufflepuffs? (_They're too pathetic to bother with) _keep on telling yourself that _(I'm not going to argue with myself) _You're failing _(Shut up!))

No, Severus couldn't be ill...But he hadn't owled Regulus at all for weeks, and the mudblood had heard nothing from him. (_Maybe he just doesn't care?)_

Could, perhaps...Regulus shivered, _could _Severus have been chosen?

That would explain everything...His absence from school his neglect of writing- for why would a _Death-Eater _ need to talk to a schoolkid...But, and Regulus fell upon the point with strange relief, Severus was too young. A fifth year, Severus was still only fifteen. In two years time, he would be eligible for initiation, as it was known within Slytherin circles that the Dark Lord did not accept underage wizards into his ranks. If, that was, he decided to overlook Severus' blood status...

Regulus did not mind Severus' being a halfblood. The elder boy, whilst close-fisted with privacy, had told him enough for his inquisitive mind to grasp that Severus hated his drunkard Muggle father and bitterly resented him for what he had done to the proud, and noble scion of the House of Prince his mother had been.

Regulus sighed.

"You are going to burn a hole through that, Regulus," a cold, proud voice informed him.

Regulus blinked and his hand flew to his wand, concealed inconspicuously in his sleeve. He looked up. His cousin stood there, her rippling blond hair combed carefully from her face, one thin eyebrow arched.

He shut the book and shuffled over so she could sit down. Narcissa seated herself beside him, and said softly in the quiet whisper Slytherins around the common room were using for their almost undetectable conversations, "What cause has my cousin scowling so at an innocent Charms book?"

Smoothing his face over, Regulus replied smoothly, "...Things have been occupying my mind of late."

Narcissa nodded pensively. "I wonder where he really is," she said contemplatively.

Regulus blinked, surprised. Had he been that easy to read?

She smiled at his thinly-veiled surprise. "I am your cousin, Reg...and grumpy git he may be, I have some passing acquaintance with your friend."

Friend was a word that was new to Regulus. He hadn't really considered naming the closeness between the elder boy and himself, but now he thought about it..."You're more than passing acquaintances, _Cissa," _he mocked gently, "Unless I've been mistaking your Potions grades?"

Narcissa smirked. "Available usage of resource-"

"-and furthering of oneself-" Regulus continued,

"-is the goal of any smart Slytherin," Narcissa finished their father's most repeated 'motto' with some amusement.

"True..." Regulus murmured, staring into the dancing flames of the fire crackling in the hearth. "The headmaster said he was ill." The oblique statement was a request for information.

Tilting her head, her pale skin illumined by the firelight, Narcissa obliged. "Unlikely. He wasn't sickening...And there is little to none here contagious."

"Lupin?" Regulus probed.

"Lupin?" Narcissa looked surprised. "No, his 'terminal disease' doesn't appear to be contagious, else Potter, Pettigrew and the Sirius would have died by now, or become ill."

"Convenient that Lupin's illness coincides with the full moon," Regulus remarked wryly.

Narcissa stilled. "Could-?"

Guessing her words, Regulus said, "Dumbledore wouldn't-"  
"Not a werewolf?" Narcissa asked in disbelief.

Regulus shook his head, and began to laugh.

"A werewolf!"

**...terrible...**


	6. City of Glass

**At last, we have some sane Severus- for a story earmarked as him, Lily and the Marauders- there has been two Lilies, two Marauders, and no Severus- unless you count him as insane, snarling animal.**

Chapter Six

"_**I know it's wrong - God, it's all kinds of wrong - but I just want to lie down with you and wake up with you, just once, just once ever in my life."**____**―**____**Cassandra Clare**__**,**____**City of Glass**_

Blood.

There was blood.

He shuddered in abject horror, gripping his temples with grime-encrusted fingers. He could steel feel the..._Thing _inside him, crawling, stretching, fighting to get out.

He didn't want it to. He was so frightened, so scared, wished for one fleeting moment that his mother was there beside him to ground him, push him away from the Thing. But his mother, but anyone he had loved, had only brought him pain. Briefly, disjointedly, he half-thought of his father, if he had caused it...

He swallowed down the nausea, fought the Change that was shivering and creeping in his muscles. He gulped, shuddering. Savage prescience thrilled in his mind. _you are mine _It wanted to get out.

His body ached and twisted, arching in impossible, anguished convolutions. He scraped and twisted in the mud and the blood that surrounded him. Leaves and twigs snarled in his shaggy mane of hair, but he didn't notice. His wounds, numerous, self-inflicted gashes in his pale, muddied skin wept crimson tears. Desperately he seized onto the image of the most precious thing to him, the one that no matter how dark, how deep, how tormented he became, would always force him to the light, eventually.

_...Lily..._

He struggled to remember her in the growing fog of his lupine mind. Green eyes, red hair like molten copper, the unique compound of freshly-mown-grass and summer skies.

_...Lily..._

The way she smiled like a perfect crescent moon. The way she laughed like a thrill of birds at dawnlight. The way she danced, sang, carefree and fierce as a weaving flame.

_Lily._

The fire in the cold. The light in the darkness. The spring in the winter. The life in the death.

Lily.

The protector against everything, anyone, that had hurt him. The calming soother to his many pains. The understanding whisper of his troubles. The one who would never forsake him...

LILY.

He screamed her name and shaking, pushed the wolf away, threw it so hard it snapped back into a far corner of his mind, repressed, caged, and finally, broken. He clung so hard to the thought of her that she overwhelmed everything else, and cautiously rebuilt himself around the edges of _her._

He lay there, his battered and bruised body haphazardly arranged like broken china. Weariness of a thousand years pressed in against his small, skinny frame then, and he knew he could not move if his life depended on it. His joints and muscles _ached _with sheer torturous agony, as if he'd been left under the Cruciatus for beyond minutes, but days, weeks, his mind snapped, body destroyed, salvaged only by the dim memory of a girl he thought he had once known.

He could remember little about the past few...weeks? Days? Minutes? Hours? Seconds? He didn't know how long. However long, he could only remember snapshots of the time spent, bright moments of crystal clear clarity. He remembered running through the woods, his hunger sharpening his focus as he chased down a young doe, following the clear trail her blood had left him. He remembered drinking at a stream, the cold water chilling his gums. Nothing beyond or after those except...

...he remembered Changing.

Every now and then, fevered, disjointed moments of sudden, intense bursts of agony, when his thoughts conquered the savagery of his nature, for brief moments until he was whisked away again by the never-ending cycle of pain. But now...now he knew...he would not Change again, for a little while. He knew that, at least.

The soft crunch of footsteps warned him to another's approach. His ears tried to twitch up, but then he realised that those ears were a memory, a fragment of another body. Still, his hearing was sharp enough to detect them, and he guessed they were coming closer, and they were human. He sniffed, and suddenly the world was open to him in a dazzlingly way it never had been before.

A map, composed completely of scent, unravelled before him. The running-fresh-water of a stream, the sweat-blood-dirt-human-wolf of himself, the fir-pine-crushed-needles smell of the bracken, the strong-old-smell of the trees- and the sharp, wolfish-human smell.

Severus Snape opened his eyes.

He was in a clearing, in the middle of some unknown wood of towering, shaggy firs and pines. A heavy blanket of pine needles carpeted the floor, splashes of blood mixing into the muddy, needled area. Above, the sky was invisible through the canopy, but thick beams of sunlight streamed in to accentuate the shadows in pools beneath the trees.

He had absolutely no idea where he was, how he had got there and how long he'd been there for.

Judging by the state of the clearing, he'd been thrashing around in it as his pre-Change convulsions demanded, for quite a while.

He had no more time to dig in his memory, for the owner of the footsteps appeared twixt the trees. He had no energy to be alarmed as he saw her, nor any to be embarrassed at the fact he was clad only in dirt and blood, with all his skinny, scarred frame- proof of his...joyous...childhood- for all to see.

She looked down at him. He stared up at her unblinkingly with dull, tired eyes.

She was tall and thin, like a runner, with long, matted blond hair that reached her waist, narrow hips, almost skeletal figure, with cold pale yellow eyes, like the winter-sun. Her lips were as red as blood- shocking in comparison to her pale colouring,- and her teeth were pointed and sharp when she smiled, slowly, not blinking all the while. She was dressed in an overlarge, rough sack, which hung to her knees and concealed her body with scratchy, baggy folds. Three scars stretched from her right temple, across her eye to her jaw.

"An impressive amount of scars," she said. Her voice was as cold as the rest of her. She ran an eye over his back. "Belt-lashes, were they?" She tossed a similar sack-like garment at him. He tried to struggle up, but collapsed. She 'hmmd' absently. "Broken glass..." She nodded, almost impressed, at the thick, shiny skin ranging over his left shoulder. "And I'm guessing that one- you were shoved into a fire?"

"Who..." his voice was harsh, hoarse, unused, and his throat erupted in pain. Wetness coated the dry expanse, and he was thankful, until he realised it was his blood. "Who...are...you..." he croaked.

"You remember me," the woman said, watching disinterestedly as he struggled to pull the sack over his head.

He blinked at her, trying to remember where he had seen her before. Her scent was familiar. An image then, of a snow-white wolf regarding him with pale yellow eyes occurred to him. Of course. She was a...He swallowed, unable to think the word, the monster he had become.

_Werewolf._

He'd been bitten.

He was too exhausted to be anything more than mildly annoyed by that. But he remembered her.

_Rotted-branch-in-wintertime. _"...Rotted...branch..."

"Yes. I remember you, Blood-In-The-Sky." She stared into his own eyes then, and he bridled unconsciously.

"Severus," he managed to hiss. "My name is Severus."

"No," she replied. "Your human-name may be, but your wolf is not. Follow me."

He laboured to his feet, and stumbled after her as she darted away into the forest, leading him Merlin-knew where. He blindly followed her, unable to comprehend much more than putting one foot slowly in front of the other. It seemed an eternity that he staggered drunkenly after the disappearing form of Rotted-Branch-In-Wintertime, but eventually he noticed that the trees were thinning and the shadows lightening.

Finally, they reached the edge of the woods, and he saw what must have been their destination.

A large square building squatted threateningly before the trees, its dark stone walls radiating forbidding vibes. It looked like something straight out of a Muggle Gothic story, with one tall, twisting chimney, handsome slate roof fallen into disrepair, polished ebony doors and ornately carved porch. More than that though was the magic. The entire place reeked of wolf, desperation, and imprisonment. Magical wards twisted and shone in writhing ropes over the house, wards of such power and strength they could keep anything out, or anything..._in..._

"This," stated Rotted-Branch-In-Wintertime emotionlessly, "is the Institute. That is what they call it. We harbour 'unstable' werewolves." By the way she sneered _unstable; _Severus could clearly tell that Rotted-Branch-In-Wintertime disapproved of the Institute.

He remained silent, gripping onto the banister for support as he struggled up the steps and through the door she held open for him. The room opened into a common room, of sorts, all done in woody greens and browns. There was a grizzled man slumped in a chair, fast asleep. Bookshelves lined the walls, and soft cushy chairs invited the weary to sit. A small door led off into what was clearly a communal kitchen, and another- an enormous, steely grey door fastened with bolts and chains- somewhere unknown.

Rotted-Branch-In-Wintertime led him down a narrow corridor towards a door a little way away from the turning. The door was painted generic white. Into the varnish had been scratched the number, _13. _

"Here," she pressed a key into his hand. "Yours. Now, go clean up. There's clothes in the drawer."

"My wand?" he asked her.

She smiled then, just a little quirk of the lips. "You think they let homicidal 'dark creatures' run around armed?"

Two hours later, and Severus Snape felt almost human again.

He was clean, and dressed in robes. Granted, they were cheap and a bit shabby, but they were clean, and soft, and that was all that counted. The sack had been taken away somewhere. He was currently lounging in front of the fireplace, staring into the crackling flames and feeling pleasantly lulled. The warmth grounded him, anchored him firmly to his human body, and his contentment soothed the wolf sleeping inside.

An unopened book rested on his lap. He wasn't intending to read it, but the simple luxury and calming weight of the beautiful object was familiar. Sometimes he allowed his fingers to wander over the leather cover, and opened the pages at random to simply follow the strikes of the ink with his tired eyes.

He'd taken Pepperup potions and been forced to see a healer. His wounds bandaged, he'd been left in peace, but he knew better than to expect it would continue to tomorrow.

He was so, so tired. He thought about Lily.

His memory of her was clear and sharp now. He could remember everything about her, once again. The loss of his memory during the change unnerved him. It wasn't that he had lost it, per se, but it had become illegible, incomprehensible, it made no sense to his lupine mind. He wondered what she was doing now, whether she was missing him. Some selfish part of him hoped so, although he knew she'd more likely be enjoying the rare time away from him.

He thought now about Lupin, Potter and Black. No doubt Dumbledore had rewarded them glowingly for their nearly-successful attempt to kill him. He felt his gut twist in anger, and found himself shaking with onslaught.

Panicking, he tried to force the Change away, seeking desperately to calm himself. He found himself groping for the thought of Lily, desperate for the calming drug she provided.

"_Lily," he whispered softly._

_She glanced up and gave him a bright smile, seeming blind to the raggedness of his robes, the dirt on his face, the knots in his hair. He slumped down beside her, drinking in the sight of her. So beautiful._

"_Hey, Sev," she greeted cheerfully, her bright Killing-Curse eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. Absently, she tucked a shiny lock of copper-red hair behind on delicate ear and frowned down at her Charms homework. Her eagle-feather quill, poised elegantly between her fingers, paused, and then began scratching on the parchment, outlining more of the neat, perfectly legible writing Lily used._

_He simply watched her, putting Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew out of his mind. He treasured her, beyond anything else, the only creature that had accepted him- all of him, not just parts of him. She knew his darkness, his light, and understood it._

_Lily would not forsake him._

With her help, he forced the wolf away and calmed himself. He closed his eyes, regulating his breathing. He thought about Regulus instead.

Regulus...the young Slytherin he felt of almost as a brother he had never had. The Black was not at all like his brother Sirius, but quiet, intelligent, smart- but also annoyingly persistent and headstrong. A small smile curved Severus' lips at the remembrance of the fourth-year. He wondered if he would ever see Regulus or Narcissa Black, the other Slytherin who regularly conversed and seemed to enjoy his company.

_These small things, _he thought, _are what make my life survivable. _Not liveable, that was Lily, who brought a heart to his black soul, but it was Regulus and Narcissa that would help him learn to live over Lily's bouts of tempestuous feelings.

_I'll never go back, _he realised dully. _I'm dangerous now. They'll lock me away. I'll never go back..._

((()))

James Charlus Potter had never been so thoroughly punished in his entire life.

The moment he'd shamefacedly stepped through the enormous door to Gryffins-Eye, the great ancestral keep of the Potters, his mother and father had been there waiting. They'd watched, thin-lipped, as the house elf Marky that had brought him from the station disappeared with James' trunk and broomstick with a loud _pop._

And then it had started.

Dorea had started. _"Care to explain _why _you're home so early..._dear?" There had been such venom in her tone James had flinched. Then it really began.

Five hours later, he had barely escaped the row, his head ringing with the verbal assault from both parents. What made it even worse, he was _banned _from Quidditch, all his spellbooks, his trunk, his mirror, his friends, _anything _fun. Instead, he attended daily sessions with a therapist and spent the rest of the day helping the house elves and researching.

Research was the only thing he was allowed to do. His mother and father forced him to research lycanthropy, bullying, psychological abuse, and all the effects they had. The more he read, the more shamed he felt, yet the more inflamed against the punishment he became.

Sirius was also in the house, but James never saw him. They were kept in separate parts of the keep and were allowed no contact with each other whatsoever. James was also completely unable to use magic.

He felt handicapped, as if a part of him that had always been present had suddenly been sawn off. He no longer even had the comfort of his wand- that too had been taken from him.

He felt absolutely miserable. His parents had turned him into a Muggle slave, and James hated it. His pride had been thrown away somewhere around the second time he'd been forced to clean the toilets around the house. It only made him hate Snivels more for the torture inflicted on him, which resulted in worse chores from the reports of the worried therapist.

He sighed. He'd marked off the days towards the full moon, knowing he would never be allowed to help Moony as Prongs again- at least, until he was allowed back at Hogwarts. _If _he was ever allowed back to Hogwarts.

The thought frightened him. Never to see Evans, or hex Slytherins, or muck around with his mates, sleep through History of Magic, ever again?

He couldn't help but dwell on the thought of never seeing Evans ever again. She was so beautiful...he had _known, _just _known, _from the moment he'd seen her, that one day he'd be watching _Lily Potter _carve itself onto the Potter family tree. A thousand terrible scenarios struck him then.

Snivels and Lily, getting married, whilst he, James Potter, the one who had _always _been destined to hold Lily's heart, looked on and served the snake-faced guests wine, like a good servant. Ostracised from Hogwarts, stumping the grounds, watching all the young wizards and witches grow and flourish, become better and better at magic until he, James Potter, was left far, far behind.

He shuddered and pulled his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth, staring out of the heavy-paned window mournfully.

He wanted to go back to Hogwarts. He wanted to go back to magic. He wanted to go back to Lily Evans. He wanted to go back to Moony, Padfoot and Wormtail.

He wanted to go home.


	7. Martin Luther King Jr

**Alright, I promise something will actually happen soon...**

Chapter Seven

"_**Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that."**____**  
**__**―**____**Martin Luther King Jr.**__**,**____**A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings and Speeches**_

Two vipers were hunting.

They crept along the darkened corridors, checking each corner before making their move. As they quickly slid from shadow to shadow, the muted whispers and staring eyes of the portraits struggled to pierce the gloom. The light bent over them in strange ways, as if they were not really there, but phantasmagorical images –fleeting, faint – placed over their eyes like a blind.

Their ensemble was entirely black. Their long cloaks were too short to brush the floor, to make that telltale _swish _of fabric on cold stone. Their hoods were drawn over their faces and held closed with a murmur of arcane words. In their hands –sheathed in gloves – they held slim, polished lengths of wood that hummed with quiet power. One was slightly taller than the other and identifiable as female only by the slight sway of her hips as she walked. The shorter, swifter, and quieter was a male.

Besides their sex, there was little to identify the pair. Which was, of course, entirely their intention.

It was half-past-ten-pm, and night held rule over the slumbering land. The students of Hogwarts School were all tucked up gently inside their beds, or gritting their teeth over a vicious homework assignment within the safety of their own common rooms. The teachers were likewise sequestered. Only the prefects, Filch and his monstrous cat would be out on the prowl tonight.

Nonetheless, the snakes had not been Sorted into Slytherin for nothing, and were well aware that the portraits reported everything a student was doing to break the rules to the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Mostly, Dumbledore just let curfew-breakers slide, but the pair of snakes did not trust him enough to take the chance. Especially if it risked their perfect masks as 'model students', and they were well-aware of the prejudice the Headmaster enjoyed against those of cunning Slytherin House.

They snuck up the stairs, cautiously putting one foot down before shifting their weight onto it to continue. Portraits muttered and whispered confusedly at the unending alertness portrayed by the students sneaking out.

They were nearly there.

The door of the abandoned music-room scheduled for their rendezvous was partly ajar, with warm yellow light streaming in from inside. Despite himself, the younger male gritted his teeth audibly at such a careless disregard for rule-breaking. His cousin laid a calming hand on his arm and gave him a smirk beneath the shadows of her cowl.

Before they entered, the younger poked his head through the door, checking.

Yes, he was there, yes, he was alone.

That knowledge firm, he opened the door and stepped fully inside, waiting for his older cousin to enter before closing the door behind her. The _click _of the door made the young man they were waiting for whirl around, gripping his wand.

He had a tense, rugged frame, with a disproportionate amount of scarring. His eyes, bright with alarm, flared from dark-brown to warm amber for barely a second. He had soft brown hair that fell carelessly, and a tired, haggard face, accentuated by the deep purple bruises beneath his eyes. At his throat was knotted a gold and crimson tie.

"You should never stand with your back to the door, Lupin," Regulus Black told the teenage werewolf.

Lupin relaxed, just slightly, lowering his wand, when Narcissa and Regulus pushed back their hoods to reveal their own emotionless faces.

"Nor," said the blond Slytherin softly, her hard blue-grey eyes examining and judging the werewolf with a steely glare (one that made Lupin feel quite sure he was found lacking) "Should you lower your wand when faced with unknown adversaries."

Wisely, Lupin clearly decided not to argue with the pair. Instead, he sighed wearily and slumped into a chair. "Well," he murmured in an almost inaudible voice, "I guess I know why you wanted me to come here tonight."

'Wanted him to come' was a slight understatement, thought Narcissa wryly. They had only cornered the half-breed and told him that under no uncertain terms he was to be there at exactly ten-thirty that night alone, or 'things would happen'. Seeing the glint in the Slytherins' eyes and worrying just exactly what they had found out- _had they perhaps found out his secret? –_ he had decided to honour their wishes.

"Do you?" her cousin asked slyly.

"Yeah," the half-breed blinked at them, seemingly surprised. "You mean...you aren't here about..."

"We're here about what you did to our housemate on the night of the full moon two weeks ago," Narcissa cut in smoothly. Regulus made no overt move, but by the slight crease on his brow Narcissa saw he was irritated with her for cutting short his word game with the wolf. Although it was a good opportunity to exploit him for information, Narcissa was more concerned with the truth about what had happened to Severus Snape.

"Oh." The half-breed swallowed convulsively and his eyes slid from theirs. He clenched his fists tightly.

"Yes," Regulus snarled softly. "_Oh."_

Narcissa wondered just how badly Reg's antagonism would complicate this.

"You're a werewolf, you bit him, didn't you?" she asked bluntly, deciding to forgo all playing with words before Regulus exploded with rage.

_Honestly, _she thought to herself irritably. She was concerned, very concerned, and if the half-breed had in fact harmed the brilliant potions genius than he would not make it out of the room. Nonetheless she was born and raised a Black, and Blacks were not foolish. Regulus was acting like a _Gryffindor..._

Lupin went quiet. He stared at the floor as if he wished it would rear up and swallow him whole. His fists were tightly clenched, and when he spoke, it was in no more than a whisper. "Yes."

Before either of them could stop themselves, Regulus growled, low and menacing in his throat, and Narcissa hissed, like a warning panther. Regulus began to shake with ill-contained fury.

He snarled his threats so quietly Narcissa had trouble hearing them, but they did not go disregarded. Lupin's face- already the pale colour of sour milk- could go no whiter. "I'm going to kill you, half-breed, I'm going to rout through the Ministry, everyone will find out, they'll come and put you down, and lock Dumbledore and your little gang up in Azkaban for life for aiding dangerous dark creatures! You're dead, half-breed!"

"But not," Narcissa put in venomously, "Before I _crucio _you to insanity!" She raised her wand to do exactly that service, Regulus following beside her, when suddenly Lupin looked up. He did not look alarmed, or surprised, or frightened, but simply sad. As if he thought yes, as if he agreed.

"Please," he murmured.

She scorned his attempts at pleading with them, but he continued. "Please. Maybe...maybe if I suffer...it will take away some of the pain in my soul..." And here his eyes, warm, dark brown and fully human, stared up at them pleadingly, "But my friends...Sirius, James, Peter...they were only trying to make my transformations easier...they tried to save him...I remember that much."

The desolation, the soul-rent guilt, the anguish in his human eyes shocked Narcissa, rocking her backwards onto her heels. The helplessness in that gaze sent her carefully-structured rage tumbling into a confused anthill. She was brought right back to the deep humane instinct of assuaging another person's grief while they wept.

And weep he did, tears glimmering in his eyes, running down pale and haggard cheeks. He looked as if he hadn't slept since it had happened, just like Regulus, tossing and turning.

"...What...what happened?" Regulus asked harshly, finally, when the silence drew on too long.

The half-breed- no, Lupin, closed his eyes, his head falling into his hands. "I...I was in the Shrieking Shack...where I normally go for my transformations...and...Sirius, James, Peter, they're all Animagi..."

The two Slytherins exchanged a shocked glance and a sharp breath as they heard this. Not only aiding a werewolf, they were illegal animagi! _We could get them in Azkaban for that, _Narcissa thought.

"...they got me out, and we would normally go running...through the forest...but this time..." he choked softly.

"Through the forest?" Narcissa interrupted in disbelief. "As a _werewolf? _An infectious, savage, dangerous _werewolf?"_

Lupin nodded sadly. "...this time...I remember...attacking him...James and Sirius were trying to get him away...and then he transformed..."

"Yes?" it was barely a whisper.

"...he was as black as night...tall, powerful...but so thin, with burning amber eyes...feral, mad..." He shuddered, the hair on his neck rising as he thought about challenging the other wolf.

Remus was lost in memory. He couldn't help but flashback as he spoke haltingly.

_Bright light shone in through the Hospital Wing's windows. Remus was comfortable and warm in the cocoon of his blankets, and he knew better than to try and move his weary, aching body. Sightlessly he stared forward, at the bed directly in front of him. It was occupied, but Remus couldn't care enough to see who. The events of the night previous were still too shaky, too fragmented, for him to piece together what had happened. He only knew something had gone horribly, terribly wrong. Somewhere, that upset him, but for now feelings seemed too remote to matter._

_He watched disinterestedly as the person on the bed opposite him began moving, crying out in a strange, animal way. In some vague part of his mind he felt annoyed that the silence was ruptured._

_Madam Pomfrey rushed over to the person, obviously trying to hush them. It didn't work. A familiar smell reached Remus' nostrils, and his eyes rolled back into his head as unconsciously, he snarled, his body tensing for a fight. It was the reek of an unfamiliar wolf._

_The person on the bed reacted suddenly, violently, and as smoothly as rippling water he slid into the snarling form of a gigantic black wolf. Frenziedly he jerked against his chains, screaming in rage. Back...forth...back...forth...human to wolf faster than a blink of an eye and back again._

"He couldn't control it...the wolf was ripping him apart inside..." Remus stared up at the Blacks with wide, haunted eyes. "...he...he...just kept..._shifting..." _And shift he did...inhumanly fast...insanely fast...

"_Poppy!" it was McGonagall now, and Remus was struggling against his own bonds, growling challengingly at the intruder, who writhed and thrashed. The furry body arched upwards, the black hair melting into pale, marred skin, howls becoming higher and shriekier. Finally, Madam Pomfrey closed her eyes and cried;_

"_STUPIFY!"_

_Severus Snape's insane, infuriated bright gold eyes met his and he screamed in rage and agony, before the red light smote him and he collapsed._

"...he was unstable. They..." he licked his lips, wishing he could make this easier. "Dumbledore came in...he said..."

"_Minerva..." Dumbledore stared down sadly at the frozen form of the young werewolf. Remus felt hazy and drugged, the calming draught Madam Pomfrey had forced down his throat had been very strong. "He can't stay here...he's unstable."_

"_Where else can we send him?" the Head of Gryffindor asked helplessly._

_Dumbledore was silent for a long time. The twinkle in his eyes had gone out. He looked up at the witch. "There is one place."_

"_What...? But Albus...not there..." McGonagall was horrified._

"...sending him away...some place else...to die...some place called...the institute..." Remus whispered.

Loud in the stunned silence between the three of them was a sudden outcry from behind the door. Her head snapping up, Narcissa stalked over to the door and yanked it open. There, staring at them with horrified and defiant eyes, was Lily Evans.

"You!" Regulus snapped.

Evans didn't reply. She was staring at them with wide, bright green eyes that looked on the verge of tears.

"Lily?" Remus asked softly. "Lily?"

"You're...you're a werewolf, aren't you?" she whispered.

Remus closed his eyes and swallowed. He felt a bolt of pain hit his heart. He knew exactly was going to happen.

"YOU KILLED HIM!" Lily screamed, and suddenly her eyes were flashing like Avada Kedavra itself, her hair was whipping around her, and she lunged forward.

"Petrificus Totalus," Regulus said coldly, pointing his wand at the enraged Gryffindor. She hit the floor with a gristly _thud._

The dark Slytherin knelt beside her, and tenderly stroked a lock of hair from her face. She glared up at him impotently. "Don't pretend you care," he hissed at her.

Lily sagged. Narcissa watched with detached amusement as the mudblood seemed to deflate, wrapping her arms around her knees, pressing her face out of sight. Her shoulders shook.

Regulus smirked. "I remember the night he snuck out. I knew something was up...I stayed up waiting. He came out. I asked him where he was going. He looked straight at me and said, 'Keeping you safe...you, Narcissa, and Lily.' Then he disappeared." He brought his face close to the mudblood's and whispered in her ear, "Do you hear that? He did it to protect you. He's not dead, you stupid mudblood. Not yet, anyway." His voice turned reflective. "You know, if he heard me calling you that, he'd _crucio _me until I was begging."

Narcissa wasn't quite sure what to say. Finally, she settled on, "I will destroy you." She glared at Lupin, then at Evans. "But I want your vow."

"My vow?" Lupin questioned her, puzzled.

"We can't tell anyone...obviously. If we reveal what you are, then we betray our friend too..." Regulus sneered. "Which means I either get to kill you or you swear too." He kicked Lily- no, Evans, who flew to her feet and drew her wand. Standing beside her, Lupin looked grey and defeated.

"I'll swear," she proclaimed, glaring at the Slytherin. "I don't know why he was friends with you."  
"Maybe because I didn't use him?" Regulus asked sweetly.

Evans face seemed to crumple again and tears shone in her bright eyes. Narcissa mentally cheered her cousin.

"Wizard's Oath it is, then," said Narcissa, and held her hand out, palm up. She raised an eyebrow as Evans hesitated.

Lupin put his hand over hers, and Regulus over his, and finally, Evans over her cousin's. Narcissa nodded, and intoned, "I, Narcissa Cassiopeia Black, swear by my magic and my name to not reveal anything heard tonight by anyone unless given express permission by Severus Snape and Severus Snape only. So mote it be."

"I, Regulus Arcturus Black, swear by my magic and my name to not reveal anything heard tonight by anyone unless given express permission by Severus Snape and Severus Snape only. So mote it be," Regulus copied.

"I, Remus John Lupin, swear by my magic and my name to not reveal anything heard tonight by anyone unless given express permission by Severus Snape and Severus Snape only. So mote it be," Remus said his turn, and looked at Lily, who swallowed and recited,

"I, Lily Rose Evans, swear by my magic and my name to not reveal anything heard tonight by anyone unless given express permission by Severus Snape and Severus Snape only. So mote it be."

A flash of white-blue light sealed the pact, and Narcissa felt an uncomfortable draw on her magic as it was sealed. Once it was done, she quickly pulled away from the half-breed and the mudblood.

She gave them a disdainful glare, turned on her heel, and swept out.

(((())))

Things had almost become manageable, now.

It had been almost a full moon-cycle since he had arrived at the institute. He had little ways of telling the passage of time. The werewolves at the institute- many of whom had been in residence at least a year- simply used the rise and fall of the moon as their guide.

There were nine of them currently in attendance. He was the youngest at fifteen, and Galdric (he insisted to be called by his human name (his wolf was Bloody-Bone-In-My-Jaws)), a massive, burly man with a friendly smile and cheerful disposition that rather reminded Severus of Hagrid, was the eldest at sixty-nine, although the huge man looked about half his age. Rotted-Branch-in-Wintertime and a quiet, mousy, jumpy woman called Sun-Through-The-Leaves or Janice, were the only women.

He sighed.

He was lying on his small, narrow cot, in the solitude of his bedroom. The door was unlocked- there were no locks in the Institute apart from in the basement, but firmly closed. The bedroom was small, square, and positively medieval compared to the grand majesty of the Slytherin dormitories, but yet it was more luxurious than his room at Spinner's End.

It contained a small bed with a simple blanket and a stuffed sack. A rough wood wardrobe contained the spare meagre clothes he had amassed- a total of two sackcloth shirts and three rough trousers. Things here were rough and simple, but clean and as well-made as possible. A small three-legged stool at the side of his cot that served as a bedside table. On it laid a small, creased picture, much thumbed, of a girl, smiling brightly at the camera. It was a Muggle picture, did not move and was three years out of date, but he didn't care. A small pile of books had been carefully stacked at the foot of the cot.

No doubt Galdric would come and annoy him into joining the rest of them for dinner, soon. Severus didn't really know why the big man bothered with him, but nonetheless Galdric refused to accept that Severus would much rather be left alone.

_Speak of the devil, and he shall appear, _thought the young werewolf wryly as the familiar pounding on the door commenced. "Oy!" The loud voice called. "You in there, skinny?"

He closed his eyes, sighed, and rubbed his temples. He also had no clue why Galdric seemed to find it so amusing to pick on Severus for either his lack of inches or weight. Unlike Potter, though, Severus could see it was meant only in jest.

He averted his thoughts before he could delve into the bad memories surrounding Potter and his friends. They only served to make him angry, and anger caused him to Shift. While shifting didn't hurt him, the wounds he would inflict on himself from his own rage _did. _He had buried all the hurts beneath him...his father, Lily, Regulus, Narcissa, Hogwarts, magic, freedom, Potter and his friends, so deep that he could build a shaky reality above them.

"Yes," he replied wearily, opening the door, "Don't destroy my door, Galdric."

The other werewolf grinned at him and slapped him so hard on the back Severus was sent hurtling into the wall, which caused Galdric to chuckle. It sounded like boulders in a thunderstorm. Galdric was huge, clearing six foot with ease, and had a large, thick mane of uncombed fiery red hair he held back with a knotted piece of leather. He usually didn't bother with shirts, as his trousers took too long to make and he was in his own words, 'damn awful at that lady stuff'.

"You're falling apart anyway, skeleton," Galdric mocked, "Can't afford to miss tea, now can we?"

Severus muttered something unkind underneath his breath. "Oh joy," he replied, louder, "let's prolong my miserable existence."

"You don't have a miserable existence, Blood-in-the-Sky," Rotted-Branch told him as she walked towards them. One eyebrow raised at Galdric. "Go eat. You need your strength." She stared at him levelly as he glared at her suspiciously.

He had the uncomfortable idea that Rotted-Branch was stalking him. She always seemed to be near him. It was quite frightening. He thought maybe she was trying to curry favour- clearly she believed he would grow to be an 'alpha'. He didn't really want to think about what she wanted then.

He followed Galdric into the kitchen. Snow-in-the-Ground, a slender, nut-brown man disfigured by horrific scarring, was already there with Sunlight-Through-the-Leaves, a quiet woman with timid doe-brown eyes that always held the fear her encounter with Fenrir Greyback had put into her, talking softly. Snow-in-the-Ground was almost as shy as she was, he preferred to wear masks when in public to hide his face, but he was also one of the few who could get pretty, silent Sunlight-Through-the-Leaves to talk.

Beside them, glowering into his food, was Rain-Rolling-Over-the-Mountains. Short, but heavily-built, he was a mute and communicated only through the stub of a pencil and scraps of paper. No one knew how he had lost his speech, no one would ask.

Resigning himself to spending another evening in the company of the wolves, he ladled some of rich brown stew into a chipped bowl and took it to the scarred table. He sat down cautiously in a creaking wooden chair.

As he did so, Fire-in-the-Darkness and Grey-Stone entered the kitchen, got their meals in silence and sat down, stabbing into the food quickly.

Fire-in-the-Darkness nodded at him. Severus was six years younger than Fire-in-the-Darkness and Grey-Stone, and apart from Galdric was on closest terms with them. They'd had been bitten a week out of school on a celebratory camping trip. Fire was tall, with pale skin, soft brown hair and the customary werewolf tawny eyes. Grey-Stone was thicker-set, with grey hair tied back and a solemn expression in his yellow eyes.

In school, they'd both been Slytherins. Severus had shared stories with them about their Hogwarts days. He couldn't remember them, but he knew he'd been in his first year when they'd been in their seventh. They'd spent four years at the Institute. There was nowhere else to go- as young adults, they had no previous experience to rely on to get them into pay, and as werewolves, they couldn't apply to jobs. Grey-Stone had been a pureblood, his name had been Marcus Nott. He'd been disinherited as soon as his family had found he'd been changed. Fire'd been a halfblood, his witch mother had died in childbirth, and his name had been John Baker.

He wondered where the other two were. Tharn, a stuttering, pale man that turned into a rather ferocious dark-brown wolf that vastly conflicted with his weak human nature, had lost himself to his wolf last full-moon; he hadn't 'surfaced' yet. No doubt Blood-Running-in-the-Stream was hiding in his room- he was as reclusive as Severus, and he'd only seen the tightly controlled, emotionless man once. Galdric had once told him that Blood-Running-in-the-Stream was so quiet and furious because at the first time of his changing, he'd murdered his entire family, wife and three daughters.

Severus himself had been making progress in controlling his own shifts. Fire-in-the-Darkness said it was keyed to emotions. If he got too angry, then he would shift. Rotted-Branch's eyes had taken on a feral gleam at this. From then on, they'd stayed away from Rotted-Branch while discussing how to stop becoming a wolf. It didn't really help that any mention of his former life made him furious enough to shift.

But he knew that he couldn't go back to Lily, to Hogwarts, to Reg and Narcissa, without learning how to control himself. He would. He wouldn't let his own nature triumph over his will.

No matter what it took.


	8. Foundation, Isaac Asimov

**Ah...I'm waiting to see how many of you explode at the insufferableness of this chapter. ;-)**

Chapter Eight

"_**Never let your sense of morals prevent you from doing what is right."**____**  
**__**―**____**Isaac Asimov**__**,**____**Foundation**_

To say it was awkward would be comparable to saying James Potter had an opinion of himself, or that Regulus Black could get a little angry, or that Narcissa Black could get a little chilly, or that Dumbledore had occasional student-preferences.

There was a clear split in the little group. They faced each other across a wide, walnut battleground, their troops heavy books spread open on the table before them, each line another potential resource in the never-ending house-war.

Shoulder to shoulder, the Slytherins read diligently. They did not lift their eyes from the text, and paused only to take a new book. Their process was both mechanical and methodical- they would not stop until their job was done. The Gryffindors read restlessly, flicking their eyes nervously to stare at the menacing snakes opposite them, though they quickly bent their heads once more to study, as if frightened of retribution.

It was Saturday morning and the quadruplet had been up since six- the very earliest breakfast was served- had eaten said meal in under quarter of an hour and had been in the library ever since. Their topic of research was quite simple.

Two words..._werewolf _and _Institute._

Already they had had Remus Lupin write down everything he knew about his own 'species': the allergy to silver; the enforced shifts at the full moons; the waning and waxing of his own temper in accordance to the moon; differences between werewolves and normal wolves; how infection was carried across; the pain of Shifting; the lack of human coherence as a wolf; the relative harmlessness to animals; the constant hunt for human flesh and the werewolf resilience to most spells, wards and defence.

Once this had been done, the Slytherin pair had made a copy of it and vanished into their common room. Stony-faced, they had returned the next morning, informed Remus and Lily they would be researching in the library. That day they had spent all their spare time in the library, at first finishing off homework, and then turning their minds to research. They had done this until five minutes before curfew, wherein they returned to their own dormitories.

Lily was suspicious of the Slytherin cousins, Narcissa and Regulus. They were cold, blank, and emotionless, which contrasted with their behaviour three nights ago, when they had confronted Remus. She didn't trust them. They were Slytherins...and the Blacks were a notoriously bad family...

As soon as the thought formed in her mind, she felt ashamed. Hadn't Severus been a Slytherin? Hadn't he proved to her most explicitly that the snap-judgement on the house of the snakes was wrong? Who was she to judge because of family names...just as Slytherins purportedly did?

She sighed. The unexpected noise made all three of the others jump.

Immediately, two Slytherin glares shot at her over the table. Lupin passed a hand wearily through his hair and rubbed his temples. Lily could not help but to shrink back from the steely-eyed glares sent her way. Regulus's stormy eyes flashed like lightning.

"Er..." Remus' voice sounded loud in the heavy silence. "It's almost lunchtime...we've been here all morning."

"Do you want to help or not?" Narcissa Black spat so venomously Lily instinctively recoiled against the back of the chair.

Regulus nodded dangerously in accordance.

The two Gryffindors returned to their books without another word. They studied. The library was silent was more, but for the turning of pages, and the odd scratch of a quill.

There were no more interruptions.

(((()))

He waited, his breath making puffs in the chilly early evening. He shivered, and pulled his star-spangled cloak around himself tightly. Glancing up at the darkening sky, he noted the half-moon rising. That moon, he mused, was both the angel and devil of the shadowed, scarred werewolves- a people now one of his students had been inducted into.

Albus Dumbledore shifted. It was a rare warm night, tonight, comparatively. In fact the thick snow on the ground looked a little thinner and slightly icier than normal, and there were no heavy snowflakes falling yet from purple-grey skies. It was always cold, here, in this remote, forested part of Norway.

Part of why, he assumed, it had been chosen for such a reclusive institution. Every tree was strongly warded with repelling charms and wards, not mentioning the gigantic, unplottable gates, or the massive walls like pincers closing around and isolating a sizeable chunk of still-snowy, cold pine-forest. The air was sharp, fresh and clear; even it informed him he was unwelcome here. It was ominously silent within the towering gates of the compound, silencing wards set in every stone.

He was dressed with uncharacteristic sobriety this evening, in accordance to the nature of his visit. His robes were of midnight blue, and his cloak that swept the forest floor was dotted with tiny, clear white stars. A silver broach in the shape of the Hogwarts coat of arms was fastened at his throat, both a reminder of his position and a useful article to keep his cloak on.

He sighed, and wondered with a touch of irritation if he was being forced to wait, or if his Patronus message had not been received. Then he chided himself- there was only one who could answer the Patronus message, and she had ten charges after all- excluding herself.

So he waited, as patiently as he could, and thought about how this had come to happen.

If only those boys hadn't let Mr. Lupin out, if only they'd known...how dangerous...

He cut off the thought sharply, as he panged with guilt. He should have known they were letting the werewolf out. Illegal Animagi- in his own school! It had been, he admitted candidly, brilliant of them to be able to learn the animagus transformation so young. It had taken himself a long time to master it.

He had known the risks when he had invited Mr. Lupin to join Hogwarts along with the others of his year group. And the friendship- the loyalty- between the four Gryffindors was remarkable. He'd brushed off their pranks- they were only kids, having fun, but now he realised he'd let them go unchecked, and in that dereliction of his duty their 'pranks' had evolved into all-out bullying.

To the extent that Mr. Black thought it was perfectly reasonable to try and murder another student.

The blame, thought Albus, did not lay all with Mr Black. His family were not the best influence on a young child (here, he thought sorrowfully of Regulus, Narcissa and Bellatrix Black) and it was impossible for a child to grow up in that environment without a few scars.

He stopped himself. He did not like the direction his own thoughts were heading. He knew that it had been partly his own dislike of Slytherins that had perhaps rendered his school a little prejudiced. But what was one man to do against the hatred of generations?

He could, at least, try and protect the 'Marauders' from themselves. And perhaps get a firmer hold on Mr Snape. He did not like wildcards, and Mr Snape's actions were always unpredictable at best. It was possible that he could use this to ensure that Miss Evans and Mr Lupin were firmly his, as with Mr Snape. It would be terrible to let such talent go to Lord Voldemort.

His musings were interrupted the loud clanging of the gate as it swung open, just enough for a thin, pale figure to beckon him forwards. He hurried over to her quickly, donning a amiable smile.

"Ah, Miss Shafiq, good to see you again."

She glowered at him and shut the gate with unnecessary force. By the fierce glow in her molten amber eyes he could clearly see she was wondering how long it would be until he was traced back to the Institute if she ripped him to pieces. He deduced that she figured not long, by the way he was still breathing after a few minutes.

He could see no wand on her, but he observed her carefully just in case. Rakshasa Shafiq was beyond a wildcard- she was, in perhaps Gellert's words, "bloody mental". Melancholy absorbed him and he found himself locked in memory as he followed her down the twisting, winding pathway that skirted around a large, black lake that shimmered in the moonlight and pierced through thick, latticed pine trees.

"What name do you go by now?" He continued.

She glared at him. "Rotted-Branch-in-Wintertime, as _always, headmaster." _

He smiled. "But of course."

She did not speak to him any more as they made their way towards the institute. When they reached the giant building looming out of the darkness, she finally said, "I assume you are here to see Blo- Severus Snape."

He wondered briefly what she was going to say, and then nodded. "Yes." He affected a mournful expression.

She sneered, and then led him up the sweeping steps underneath the high porch. The Institute had once been a grand building, built handsomely in strong, fine stone and trimmed in ornate carved wood, but that time was long past. Now a shadow of its former self, it was rundown and ill-maintained with makeshift planks over the shale roof in some places.

They entered into a large common room, with a doorway (doorless, he noted) leading off into the shabby kitchen. It was furnished with sofas and lounges that had clearly seen better days: bookshelves lined the walls. A roaring fire warmed the hearth.

A ragged blue and faded grey -that may have been white once- rug softened the spruce wood floorboards rubbed smooth by generations of tramping feet. The walls were wood-panelled and dark, but there was a large window paned with glass-diamonds in the muggle Tudor fashion that lit some of the room.

He noticed all this in a single sweeping glance, but then redirected his attention to the four hostile-looking werewolves glowering up at him from the couches. He internally sighed.

None of them were Mr Snape, unfortunately. A thin, brown-skinned young man with terrible scarring that flicked his nervous amber eyes away from Albus' was sat nearest the fire. Glaring belligerently next to him- he had stood when Albus had walked in- was a massive, red-headed and bearded man, with thick muscled arms and an expression in his golden eyes that clearly said he followed Rotted-Branch's way of thinking.

And reclining lazily into the seats on the opposite of the fire were two young men he vaguely recognized, who stared at him with emotionless, slightly bored faces. One smirked at him.

"Why, hello, headmaster," one of the younger men drawled sardonically, "do you remember us?"

"I'm afraid I don't, my dear boy," Albus smiled, but mentally he was scrambling through his Occlumency-augmented memory, trying to dig up faces.

"Shameful," his companion sighed. "Simply shameful, isn't it, John?"

"Indeed, Marcus, indeed," 'John' shook his head. "Especially seeing as we were attacked a week out of graduation."

He remembered them now! "Of course, Mr Nott, Mr Baker." The two Slytherins' eyes glittered mockingly as they nodded. "Forgive me, an old man's memory-"

"Is best left untried, indeed," Marcus Nott sighed.

"Grey-Stone, Fire-in-the-Darkness, stop playing with him," Rotted-Branch snapped. She cast a dirty look at Albus and sneered, "You could catch something."

Fire-in-the-Darkness, or John Baker, snickered, but he and 'Grey-Stone' subsided.

"What are you here for anyway?" The redhead giant challenged. Albus allowed his magic to stretch just barely, putting a flash and a coldness in his own eyes as he answered, "Seeing to one of my students."

A terrifying smile stretched over the redhead's face. "You'll be wanting Severus, then, won't you?"

"Yes," Albus said with relief. At last! The entire place stank of dog.

Too late, he wondered just why the veritable giant was giving him such a menacing grin as the redhead turned away and hollered, "_**SSSNNAAAPPPEEE!"**_ Albus winced and massaged his ears. But the man was not yet done. "OI! MOVE YOURSELF!"

The man gave Albus a nasty grin at the sight of the ear-sore wizard. Baker and Nott clearly had had the sense to put a silencing charm first, and were watching them with some sly amusement.

"What is it _this time, _Galdric!" a familiar, snappish voice yelled. "I'm not a bloody house elf!"

Severus Snape slouched around the corner. Albus blinked. He had changed.

Vaguely, Albus remembered a dark and slightly greasy-haired boy with sallow, pale skin that skulked and lurked in the shadows. Albus had never been particularly fond of the boy- he was a Slytherin, first of all, and his unfriendly and often acerbic attitude made him difficult and suspicious. He was always slightly average in his studies, apart from of course, Defence and Potions, both of which he excelled at.

But this boy was so different he at first assumed Galdric was playing games, but then he recognized the nose slightly too strong to fit his face, the high cheekbones and the dark belligerence in the set of his pale lips.

His hair was much longer, clearly it hadn't been cut since he had left Hogwarts, and had been tied into a knot at the nape of his neck. It looked soft, and washed, which was the most surprising. His skin was almost brown with tan, (Albus was impressed- how did he tan in freezing, snowy Norway!?) but despite this he had dark shadows beneath his eyes, and he looked haggard and wearied. There was a long, pale scar on his arm.

He wore a rough shirt clearly manufactured out of some sort of canvas sacking, and carefully sewn with neat, tiny stitches, and a pair of similar trousers. He wore no shoes on his feet, which were browner with dirt. But it was his eyes...his eyes that drew attention.

Before, when they had been black, they had sucked in light like black tunnels. Now they burned like dragonfire out of his sockets, captivating and holding attention to them. Those bright, feverous golden eyes pinned Albus shock-still, and the headmaster found himself unable to move from the harsh accusation and vicious hatred.

"Headmaster," Severus said softly, in barely more than a whisper, yet Albus heard him without effort.

"Ah, Severus, there you are..." Slightly nervously, Albus glanced at the werewolves, only to find they were no longer there. He blinked, and suddenly they were there, ranged behind Severus. It was eerie, how eight fully grown people could appear out of nowhere without him noticing. He assumed it must be the heightened senses.

Galdric, the giant redheaded werewolf with dark umber eyes, stood on the slender fifteen-year's right side, one large hand resting on the skinny shoulder. On his left stood Fire-In-the-Darkness, in the same position, with Grey-Stone slightly behind and to the left of Fire-in-the-Darkness. Linked around them like a formidable spearhead were another four werewolves he didn't know, and in their centre, directly behind Severus, Rotted-Branch.

Nine pairs of golden eyes followed him. He wondered absently where the other werewolf was, there was supposed to be nine, with Rotted-Branch not included.

"Maybe it would be better if we talked alone, my dear boy," Albus said genially, attempting to level the footing.

"What you say to me, you say to my pack," Severus dismissed him casually, half turning as if to walk away.

Albus privately swore and promised himself he would win over Severus Snape. But first...He eyed the werewolves again, and made a snap-decision. He had planned to come here simply to see if the boy was still alive, (and to assuage his own guilty conscience somewhat) but if perhaps the boy's shifts were controlled...this would be an excellent opportunity to drive the boy closer to his own side.

If he said the boy could return to Hogwarts, then he would be grateful...hopefully. And if he promised dire enough retribution on the Marauders...

"Very well," smiled Albus grandfatherly, "I came here to see how you were progressing...with control."

"Blood-in-the-Sky is exceptional," Miss Shafiq – Rotted-Branch – said.

Albus affected to not understand.

"My wolf name," Severus informed him, as if he were stupid.

Albus mentally gritted his teeth. _Infuriating brat..._

"But of course," he said, still smiling. "In that case..." he pretended to look indecisive. "If you are ready for it...There is still your place at Hogwarts." _Got you, _he thought, faintly smugly, when he saw the open shock on Severus' face. Childish of him, yes, but one-upping the boy was a good feeling.

Meanwhile, Severus was blinking away what Albus suspected where the barest hint of tears, looking as open and wondrous as a child. "What?" he whispered.

"There is _always," _said Dumbledore, setting his face in heavy lines of both sobriety and wisdom, "help at Hogwarts for those who need it."

"You would let me return?"

"Of course, my dear boy...Hogwarts is your home." This was perfect...Severus was playing perfectly into his hands. "But..."

_Slam. _

Albus sighed.

Every door, barrier, wall, and window slammed shut in Severus' eyes and he tensed, suspiciously. He wondered absently what had made him so wary of authorities.

Pretending to not notice, he continued, "...you will have to stay in the Shrieking Shack every moon, and I expect both you and those Gryffindors," here he allowed ice to creep into his tone, "to at least refrain from open hatred. Dislike each other all you want, but no more."

Severus cocked his head and stared at him, for a while.

Albus waited.

"Fine," the fifth year werewolf agreed, and the headmaster breathed out.

As he turned away, Albus had a victorious smirk on his face. He would feel bad about manipulating Severus...but it was for the greater good.

**...I wish I had a webcam, so I can see the fury on your faces...lol...TROLL. "Greater good," we love that phrase.**


	9. Thirteen Reasons Why

Chapter Nine

"_**Like driving along a bumpy road and losing control of the steering wheel, tossing you-just a tad-off the road. The wheels kick up some dirt, but you're able to pull it back. Yet no matter how hard you try to drive straight, something keeps jerking you to the side. You have so little control over anything anymore. And at some point, the struggle becomes too much-too tiring-and you consider letting go. Allowing tragedy...or whatever...to happen."**____**  
**__**―**____**Jay Asher**__**,**____**Thirteen Reasons Why**_

Sirius Black stared longingly at the great, scarlet train, watching the puffs of white steam billowing over the deep shiny red body, heard the shrill whistle, and the bustle of witches and wizards as they quickly climbed aboard the Hogwarts Express to Hogsmeade. The sandstone-style walls that matched the rest of the oblivious Kings' Cross were lit by mage-lights suspended high in the ceiling. Warm sunlight poured in through the glass roof. Sirius smiled at the big plastic sign reading _9 3/4. _

There were no students here that he could see. It was all fully-grown witches and wizards on the daily train to Hogsmeade, and the next day return. They swept importantly onto the train, leaving the platform quickly, sparing him no glance. He was thankful for it. He felt out-of-place and uncharacteristically nervous. Dumbledore had informed him they were all returning together- Snape, James, Peter and him. No mention of Remus, but a stern threat that if he messed with Snape, he'd be out of Hogwarts faster than he could say 'magic'.

Dumbledore had visited at the Potters' keep, Gryffins-Eye, to see Sirius a week previously. He'd checked up with Sirius' therapist, Dr Colette, and then gone into talk with Sirius. Sirius had been willing to promise anything if it meant getting out of the keep he'd considered a haven- until he was imprisoned within it. Dr Colette had promised if he got expelled because of bullying Slytherins- he would probably thoroughly deserve it and she would aid in making his life hell.

Dr Colette had not been pleased with Sirius' attitude towards Slytherins when she had first met him. She'd been one herself in Hogwarts. She'd quickly identified, to Sirius' shame, the cause of his prejudice lying with his family. She'd taught him to keep his grudges separate- and drilled firmly into his head the simple life advice, _treat others how you wish to be treated yourself. _She'd drawn cruel comparisons between his family's treatment of him and his own abuse of Snape (he'd been shocked and rebellious when she'd first identified it as that) and finally turned him inside out and _showed _him.

In truth, Sirius hadn't ever liked Snape because it felt as if Snape were his double opposite. Snape came from a terrible, shady (in pureblood ideal) family, but had joined Slytherin and involved himself in the Dark Arts to rise higher, whereas Sirius had come from a respectable pureblood family (again ideals he did not agree with) but had furiously striven against them, turned his back to them and went to Gryffindor instead. There, the seeds of hatred in Sirius had been planted.

Sirius knew he at least owed Snape an apology, if not a damn life-debt. His pride cringed at the thought, but resolutely he knew he could not shirk it. Especially if Dr Colette ever found out. That woman was formidable.

He swallowed. He had wanted so badly to return to Hogwarts- but now he was unsure, and a little frightened. He had no friends, James and Peter had told him they never wanted to see him again. He hoped desperately that Remus would still be his friend, but he doubted it. He didn't deserve to be Remus' friend, anyway, not after what he had done to the werewolf.

_Oh Remus, _lamented Sirius. _I'm so sorry. So sorry. _And Snape- he _knew _what being a werewolf had done to Remus...and now he had condemned Snape to it too. _Why did I make him go down to the Whomping Willow? Why was I so stupid?_

Snape had been needling him, aggravating him, and he had responded by completely destroying the other's life. Damnit, if he had to, he'd pay the Slytherin for the rest of his damn life if it would at least lessen the guilt.

Sirius knew it wouldn't.

Tugging his trunk behind him, Sirius hauled it onto the train and set off in search of an empty compartment.

He passed a groups of shady looking wizards discussing something in whispers, giggly witches, some somber looking people that spent their entire time staring away from each other, one very unfriendly wizard that looked larger than twelve of Sirius, several young couples snogging- he walked very quickly past that one and mentally resolved never to sit in those ones again. And then he peered in one and saw two familiar heads bent over a packet of sweets, chuckling to one another.

James and Peter.

Sirius almost started opening the door. Almost. And then he remembered what James had said to him after Dumbledore had shouted at them.

"_Shut up Black! What were you thinking? Didn't you think about Remus at all? The effect this will have had on him? You're just like your family after all." He'd glared viciously at Sirius as he spat. _

_Hurt, Sirius recoiled, tears automatically springing to his eyes. He couldn't believe James would say that. "Ja-" He began to say- anything to get that look out of his brother's eyes. Why couldn't James see? Snape was just a Slytherin...What did it matter if he died? He was only going to grow up and kill people! Sirius wasn't like his family! Death-Eater scum! _

"_Come on Peter," James had hissed, "We don't associate with Death-Eater filth." With that, he turned and stalked away, and Sirius, not quite believing this was happening, stared after him. James...his brother...his best friend...no. James wouldn't walk away from him. The truth suddenly hit him then, and he crumpled, tears springing into his dark grey eyes, curling brokenly at the foot of the sneering gargoyle statue, bereft of the one thing that had kept him going- his friends._

_James had abandoned him. James was disgusted. He didn't want to be his brother anymore. "Why?" Sirius had whispered to himself in the midst of his sobs. "Prongs?"_

Creeping feelings of shame overtook him, and seeds of anger. He pushed the trunk on and walked away from James and Peter. He knew why, now. Knew he'd gone too far with Snape. But James could hardly say that- hypocrite! He hadn't bothered to see Sirius at all, clearly indicating he didn't want to make up. Sirius'd been too upset at him for abandoning him- just as his family had done- to approach him, but he'd harboured a desperate hope that James would come see him, reassure him he was still a Marauder, he was still James' brother. He was ashamed of what he had said and done, but it hadn't stopped him from wishing...desperately wishing.

So he walked on. All of the compartments were in fact full. He paused at the door of a compartment which contained only a dark-haired mop over a book, and knocked. "Do you mind if I sit in here?"

The mop glanced up, and Sirius saw a thin face, with high aristocratic cheekbones, sharp jaw and proud nose, dominated by bright gold eyes. He blinked, a little shocked. Gold was an unusual colour- and such intensity...As if he were lit from within.

"Black." The boy sneered, Sirius guessed he was around his age.

"Yes, that's me," Sirius said, wondering how he had managed to piss someone he had never met off so completely.

The boy raised an eyebrow. "What- your friends tired of you? Doesn't surprise me," he asked derisively.

Sirius blinked. Suddenly, the features slid into place and his mind clicked. "Snape!"

"Good dog." Snape drawled.

"You look really different..." Sirius said in amazement.

Snape cocked his head in an oddly birdlike movement, but there was nothing birdlike in the wolfish hunger in his golden eyes. "Is that so?" he mocked softly, a sardonic twist jerking his pale lips. Sirius felt pinned as those gold eyes perused his form sharply, and Snape's nostrils flared, as if he were trying to catch some scent. The entire action was predatory. "Sit," he said suddenly, extending one clawed hand toward the seats opposite for him.

Easily, Sirius slung his trunk onto the rack next a shabby trunk he guessed was Snape's, and sat on the indicated seat, feeling unaccountably uncomfortable. Maybe it was something in the way the door was closed firmly, maybe it was something in the way Snape's golden eyes had darkened to low umber, or his unblinking gaze, or the strange, hair-raising smell of pinewood, wolf fur, and thunderstorms.

"Snape..." Sirius began. Merlin, this was difficult. What did he say? _I'm sorry for being an utter and complete asshole all these years? _"What happened..."

Snape just stared at him. He did not blink. Sirius' eyes slid from his, unable to keep that burning stare. It was only then that Snape seemed satisfied, and he leaned back, throwing one arm casually over the seat next to him, sipping a flask of something, watching him with the disinterested gaze that communicated- _you-are-a-bug-not-worth-my-notice-but-I-guess-I-co uld-use-you-for-ingredients-if-I-must. _

"I'm sorry!" he finally blurted.

At last, the damn emotionless mask wavered, and the slightest expression of surprise registered in his eyes, that suddenly flared bright gold again. "Sorry?" he questioned, with a hint of a smirk and raised eyebrow.

"For...everything...we...I, did..." Sirius said haltingly. "I hated you since that train ride just because you wanted to be in Slytherin...I'm sorry for judging you...and being so horrible to you when I didn't even get to know if you were a nice person..."

The mask was gone, Snape was gaping at him in open shock.

"I was kind of scared if I didn't go along with it...they'd hate me. I saw my own troubles superimposed over you...we kind of made your life hell." Sirius looked down. "I was weak."

Snape's pale hand caught his wrist. Sirius jumped and stared at him in shock, just restraining himself from yanking his arm from the surprisingly strong grip.

"You don't look ill, but you're sounding it," Snape said with genuine concern, "do you remember hitting your head at all-"

"I'm not ill, or concussed!" Sirius snapped, reclaiming his hand with a savage jerk.

Snape's eyes glowed with sarcastic humour and Sirius belatedly realised he had been joking.

"So why then," the Slytherin asked in a voice like silk, "are you not with your little friends...laughing over my misfortune?"

Sirius swallowed. "I said...I was sorry. And..."

"You fell out with them." It wasn't a question. Shamefully, Sirius nodded. "Now, did you come to me to really apologise- which I very much doubt- or because you miss your friends?"

"Apologise!" Sirius said immediately, instinctually glaring at the dark-haired boy, who smirked at him.

Sirius suddenly realised he'd played right into the Slytherin's hands. "You were purposely trying to wind me up, weren't you?" he accused.

Snape smirked. "But of course."

Sirius sighed. He couldn't help it. He shook his head- and damn the Blacks' Slytherin side- smirked too, for a game well played.

((()))

_Well, _thought Severus as he stepped onto Hogsmeade station platform, _that was interesting._

The train ride had been somewhat a revelation, which the young wolf still had some mixed feelings about. Barely five minutes after the Hogwarts Express had pulled out of Kings Cross, Sirius Black had walked into his compartment, asked (_politely?!) _to sit down, and proceeded to apologise for everything he had done to Severus. Severus had of course taken the apology with a grain of salt and continued to rile Black up to see how much he had changed...But to his surprise, there had been no punches, no hexes thrown, only sharp defensive words. And then, Black had spent the rest of the time chatting to him.

Chatting.

To him.

Black.

As in, Black, in the same room as Severus, without any taunts thrown.

_BLACK?!_

Apparently, Dumbledore had been serious. Severus had thought he'd been joking, again.

He would not let his guard down- he did not trust Black at all. He couldn't care less at the moment about Black's friend troubles, he was too eager to see Reg, Cissa, and Lily again. Oh, Lily. He had missed her. His hand went to his pocket, concealed in his robe, and he found the out-of-date Muggle picture of a smiling girl. He always took her with him wherever he went.

It reminded him to come home.

Home, to Lily, who would never forsake him, to Narcissa, who would always (futilely- Severus had accepted long ago his appearance was never going to get better- his hair was naturally greasy, his nose was large, and he was skinny enough to pass as a rake) attempt at least he walked out of the common room halfway presentable, to Regulus, who would always follow him around and beg, puppy-eyed, for scraps of knowledge, only to laugh and lord it over him when he invariably gave in. A hint of a smile curled the ends of his lips, though he quickly veiled it.

The castle loomed out of the darkness then, tall and proud. His other thoughts were blown away like frail autumn leaves in a dust-storm. Every window blazed with light, casting rippling reflections on the inky lake. Rising majestically into the misty dusk-darkness, the high tower-tops were hidden from view. Mist coalesced into thick fog that occluded the highest arches, and crept sluggishly across the ground squelching and muddy from heavy rainfall. Swirling bruise-purple clouds gathered menacingly overhead.

It was rendered dizzyingly clear by his intense senses- senses so powerful he wondered how he could have lived so deaf, blind and anosmic. He closed his eyes and breathed in.

His nose, delicate and fine-tuned, sent a vivid array of information to his brain. The muggy, damp smell of the mist dampened other scents, leaving only vague impressions like the imprints of lightly pressing fingers in wet mud. The clean, sharp smell of frost; wetness of the rain; the pine-smell of the forest; the heady, mouth-watering red-blood smell of human (here his wolf stretched, growling with hunger, and he was forced to shiver and bite back a starved whimper) and the heavy, spine-tingling ozone and lightning taste of powerful magic.

Blood-Sky rumbled and snarled. The temptation to shift slithered in him, twitching and jerking his muscles. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes; fighting down waves of pre-change jitteriness and nausea clawing his belly. Casting out with his thoughts, he seized onto the image of Lily, barely aware his eyes had flared sunfire bright golden-yellow. The rich, musky scent of wolf rolled off him.

That terrible need; that animal seduction; the wet, warm scent of blood; that feverishly imagined satisfaction of hot flesh sliding down his throat; slaking his bloodthirsty desire to rip and tear, break and destroy. The close presence of the four humans drove his appetite into a slavering torture. He clung mindlessly to the image of Lily and his own shaky humanity, swallowing the nausea and stilling the shakes. He shoved the wolf back into the depths of his mind, and sealed him there.

Finally, he cracked open his eyes and rolled his shoulders back to ease the tension knotted there. To his relief, no one appeared to have noticed his slip. Belatedly, he loosened hands clenched into tight fists.

McGonagall had walked down to collect them. The emerald-cloaked professor looked as severe and unruffled as ever. "Mr Potter, Mr Pettigrew, Mr Black, Mr Snape." She named them with no inflection, though Severus noted that her eyes lingered on him- or perhaps Black standing uncomfortably next to him. "Follow me, please." The tall witch turned and strode back towards the castle.

With a glare at Severus and Black, Potter dragged Pettigrew immediately after Professor McGonagall. An eyebrow raised disdainfully, Severus followed at a more dignified pace- once Potter had achieved a suitable distance. The mutt followed obediently at his heels, though he spared Black no glance. Black could follow whomever he damn wanted as long as he didn't get in Severus' way. The prospect of seeing Reg, Cissa and Lily again was too irresistible to sully or put off.

It seemed like an eternity that they slipped, squelched and slid their way through the dense fog. Mud splattered the hem of Severus' robes and his feet were long soaked. But while Potter scowled at having his fine robes ruined and Black frowned a little as their rich pureblood background momentarily surfaced, Severus could not care less. A little mud was nothing to him when he woke up smeared in innards, blood, filth, sweat and shit on a monthly basis. It wasn't like his robes were made of gold-dust like Black and Potter's probably were.

Eventually, the harsh tramp was over. Severus' legs burned with exhaustion of laboriously hurrying through the thick, waterlogged mud after McGonagall's quick, seemingly unflappable pace. They stumbled, as bedraggled as swamp rats, onto the sweeping stone steps. There they stood, dripping miserably, welcoming the firm stone beneath their feet.

McGonagall pursed her lips and muttered, "Scourgify." The soaked heaviness and the mud vanished, leaving them sparkling clean.

"Mr Potter, Mr Pettigrew, Mr Black," McGonagall caught their attention sharply. Severus experienced a smug satisfaction at the kicked-puppy expression her precious lion cubs were giving the Gryffindor head of house. "A prefect will be waiting for you tomorrow morning outside your common room, to escort you to lessons. Mind you do not keep them waiting." A scathing glare achieved obedience from the trio, whom were quick to nod.

Satisfied, McGonagall now addressed them all. "Go, enjoy the feast. I do not need to tell you not to speak of why you were excluded." It was a statement. As Black, Pettigrew and Potter made to leave- Black almost questioningly glancing back at Severus- McGonagall added in an aside, "Oh, and Mr Snape, Madam Pomfrey would like to see you in the Infirmary after you have eaten."

With that parting note, she walked to the doors to the Great Hall, pushed them open and strode inside. The students quickly followed her.

Severus stopped, shock still, as a sudden wave as powerful as a tsunami smashed into him, driving him backwards of delicious, delectable human scent. He gasped, loudly, audibly, and Black in front of him looked back at him in surprise. Severus slumped against the door, his face grey, his body tense, his eyes bright gold. His heart drummed in his ears. His throat felt papery dry, but his mouth wet with saliva. He swallowed, quickly, but it made no effect.

_Merlin! _He needed to kill, to change so badly it hurt him. The shivers overtook him and he knew with finality he was going to change. He half-crouched, a painful hiss of pain escaping clenched teeth as his bones began to stretch.

_No! I am Severus Snape, I am a wizard, I am Severus Snape, I am Severus Snape..._

He gripped the floor with desperate fingers, trying to ground himself through a haze of pain and bloodlust. _I am Severus, I am Severus..._

Suddenly, strong fingers gripped his arm and yanked his chin up, and dark grey eyes stared directly into his own burning gold, a naked challenge Severus could not deny.

He snarled, low and throaty, raising his hands as claws to fight this intruder away. The grey stare did not waver, and Severus was pinned underneath it, unable to complete the Change he so desperately needed to, for to do so would be to break eye contact, to do so would admit defeat.

He became steadily aware that the human was talking to him. He concentrated on the words, but they made no sense to his wolf mind. So gradually, his human was dragged up to make sense of the bewildering noises.

"...snake...willing to tear our throats...I'm not...to die yet...look at me, damnit!" The last noise was expelled in anger as Severus tried jerking out of the human's grasp. He blinked rapidly. "...think your eyes are a little darker...do you understand me yet?"

Severus stared at the handsome, aristocratic face for a little while until his memory saw fit to provide him with a name. "Black," he snapped, and a floodgate opened, and he was Severus Snape again, "Let go of me, you rot-brained dunderhead."

Black released him and straightened. Amazingly, everyone seemed completely oblivious to the fact that a major disaster had just barely been averted. Uncurling himself from his foetal position, Severus rose stiffly to his feet.

"What was that?" Black asked him.

Severus was in no way inclined to reply, but he did so anyway- because Black had just helped him, after all. "That," he said, "is what happens when a werewolf is about to change."

"Why were you going to change?" asked the mutt, but Severus walked away towards the Slytherin table without another word.

Black was an arrogant asshole. But Severus guessed that for now, he could think of worse.

**Next chapter, Sevvy reunites with dear Cissy and Reggie, and sees their darling alliance with Remy and Lilypoo. And who knows, Siriwiri may make some appearances. Oh yeah, Sirius and Snape are NOT friends. Don't know if you guessed, but the closer a werewolf's eyes to their original eyecolour, the more in control they are. When they're shifted, their eyes are bright gold yellow. When they're about to shift, they're only a little darker. Remus, as having an incredible amount of control, manages to keep his human eyecolour most of the time (by the way, what is remus' natural eyecolour) but snape as you can see has more difficulty.**


	10. Philosopher's Stone

**Heh…naughty to put a quote from the books but…it fits.**

Chapter Ten

"_**It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends."**____**  
**__**―**____**J.K. Rowling**__**,**____**Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone**_

"Alright then," Madam Pomfrey said with a gentle smile towards the young werewolf. _Poor boy, _she thought to herself.

Severus Snape was all too happy to escape from the nurse and her pitying looks. It was bad enough enduring the curious stares of the Slytherins during dinner, or the sad light in Dumbledore's eyes whenever Severus happened to catch his eye (which was often, as Dumbledore was under the apparent belief that he would die if he tore his gaze from the black-haired teen) without Madam Pomfrey's motherly fussing.

He disliked Madam Pomfrey at the best of days. He hated it when people tried to treat him like a child. He never had been and never would be- his childhood had been stolen by alcohol, poverty and a threatening father. He found motherly types annoying and was unsure how to conduct himself around them. _His _mother had never treated him like that.

He rose quickly, with a brief nod and a mutter of "Thanks" and headed out- to freedom. He had barely taken three steps when a distressed female launched herself into his arms.

Severus Snape was not in fact used to being accosted by attractive women- especially attractive women that then proceeded to cling onto him as he were a lifeboat and they drowning, and crying his name. He found himself standing there, quite bemusedly, stiff and straight-backed as a tower, eyeing the shining mop of blood-red hair with bewilderment and a little fear. His arms dangled awkwardly at his sides. Where was he supposed to put them?

He swallowed dryly and tried to not really feel Lily Evans' body pressing up against him or smell the gorgeous, mouth-watering scent of her lifeblood.

It didn't work.

He was beginning to get quite uncomfortable.

It was not that he didn't _appreciate _the tight-fisted embrace (it was impossible to call it a hug) it was just that maybe...he appreciated it a _bit too much._

He swallowed again. "Er...Lily?"

He wished he hadn't spoken. For as soon as he had, the sobbing recommenced and if possible her arms tightened. He gasped for breath, while Lily continued to wail, "_wm sowwy oozd ooo oo oar fing oo uffd ooo much."_

Eventually, Severus decided he needed to do something. He looked over Lily's head and saw, to his great relief, Narcissa and Regulus standing there. Regulus was holding back laughter at Severus' obvious discomfort and Narcissa was shaking her head, pityingly.

"_i mist ooo o much!" _Lily sobbed. He guessed that meant _I missed you._

'_Help me!' _he mouthed to the Black cousins. Snickering, Regulus hugged Narcissa, demonstrating most clearly where to put appendages, and mimed patting her head and muttering soothing words. Narcissa then shoved him away, scowling.

Severus resolved to never ignore Regulus ever again. Sometimes he did know what the hell he was talking about.

Awkwardly, he wrapped his arms around Lily's waist, trying very hard _not _to notice that this caused her to shift _further into _his embrace (how was that possible?!) freed one hand and patted her head. He glanced at Narcissa, who nodded encouragingly.

"Err- it's okay Lily..." he tried.

She wept only harder. "_Ouch," _he hissed, as she practically trod on his toes to press her tear-stained face into his neck. Merlin, she smelled _wonderful._

"Calm down," he pleaded, "erm...calm down _please..."_

Narcissa shook her head, as right on cue Lily wailed, _"i don't deserve goo!"_

He frowned in puzzlement. Goo?

_You, _Narcissa mouthed, and he nodded in comprehension. Ah, that made more sense.

As asking nicely didn't work, he tried somewhat more a forceful approach. "Lily! Let go of me!"

"_wm soo sowwy oo don't deserve to put up wiv meeee!" _Lily's face emerged, tears still streaming out of her crystalline eyes, to look at him.

Suddenly, Severus had an idea. His mother sometimes got so hammered on her own depression she broke down into fits of crying. His father being the drunk bastard he was, was usually passed out on the sofa, so it was up to Severus to calm her down.

He adjusted his arms and brushed a lock of shining red hair out of her face gently. "Calm down," he said softly, "I'm not going anywhere..."

She nodded, sniffling, and clearly _tried _to hold in her sobs. Her little body shook as she rested her head on his shoulder with the import of her weeping.

"Shh..." he soothed, rhythmically stroking her soft hair. "...shh...it's better now...I won't leave you...shh..."

Finally, Lily's hysterical weeping was soothed to the occasional sniffle. Severus sighed in relief and cautiously detached her arms.

He breathed. He could breathe again!

"Sorry," Lily muttered, red-faced, as she wiped her eyes.

"Er- don't worry about it," Severus said uncomfortably.

Moving forward, Narcissa embraced him gently. He could not help but compare the two hugs. Narcissa was cool, calm and almost reserved, yet the glimmer and the softness in her grey eyes was just as expressive as Lily's tears. She pressed a cold kiss to his cheek, smiled, and murmured, "It is good to see you well again." Also unlike Lily, her hold lasted long enough for her to whisper in his ear, not long enough for him to get overly awkward.

Regulus grinned at him unreservedly, and offered him an arm. Smirking back, Severus gripped his friend's arm at the elbow and clapped the younger boy's shoulder. They separated quickly while Narcissa rolled her eyes and muttered something about "ridiculous boys and their man-hugs." Lily snorted.

Surprised at this show of cordiality between his Gryffindor and Slytherin friends, he glanced between the three, one eyebrow raised in question. Lily smiled and wrapped her arm in his, tugging on him.

"Not here," Regulus articulated, staring at Lily with some befuddlement as Severus looked at the redhead in horror, clearly expecting another tearful explosion, "Come on. We have a place."

_Oh, _though Severus, _they had a Place. _"So you have a 'place' now, Reggie?" he insinuated subtly, with a teasing smirk as he followed the Slytherin.

Narcissa arched an eyebrow. "But of course," the blonde purred, "Where else would we seduce darling little Gryffindors?" She bumped Lily's hip with her own.

Shockingly, Lily played along. "Oh, Severus!" she mock-cried, staring up at him with expressively over-wide eyes, "You must save me! These wicked snakes have been stealing me away to have their wicked way with me!"

"Sweet Lily," Regulus drawled, "You have forgotten that dear Severus is a wicked snake, also."

"Oh no!" Lily pretended to swoon, 'scared' at being penned in by all three snakes. "Whomever shall save me! I am but an innocent maiden!"

Regulus snickered. Severus shook his head, inwardly bemused. _What had changed? _When he had left, Regulus had been muttering 'mudblood' in the halls as he passed, and Narcissa had been icy to the point of glacial. Now it seemed as it Lily's fire had melted the both of them. He would have given anything to watch it happen.

Well, he remonstrated, nearly anything. There were some things he would never sacrifice.

They stopped beside a rich tapestry depicting brightly-hued dragons in flight against one wizard, whose wand shot magnificently woven spells. Oddly, the tapestry did not move. Regulus held the tapestry aside, and Narcissa unlocked the small door hidden behind it with a soft "_Alohomora." _

Ducking in behind Lily, Severus found himself in large vaulted room. It was big, big enough to be a duelling arena. High, arched windows allowed pools of soft dusklight to illuminate the room. Darkness tinged the walls. It was bare, but for a few cushions and ratty blankets in the centre of the room. Lily raised her wand, and balls of light suspended in the carved ceiling suddenly brightened, chasing away the shadows.

"We found this place running away from Filch," Regulus commented offhandedly. His tone sounded very much like he wanted Severus to inquire why, despite the apparent aloofness of his manner.

"Running away from Filch?" he repeated dutifully, though he did not have to feign interest.

Narcissa arranged herself delicately over the cushions like a ruling empress. Next to her, Lily sprawled, arms and legs akimbo like a burning blossom fallen from her tree. Regulus' dark eyes sparkled as he regarded his friend, clearly wishing to impress the elder boy. He squatted next to his cousin as nervously Severus perched next to Lily. Eyes closed, Lily turned her face towards him and smiled gently. Severus thought he had never seen anything more beautiful.

"We were up in the library," Regulus began, and Severus raised an eyebrow. All together? His disbelief at this miraculous new camaraderie had not lessened at the continued evidence of it. "Studying werewolves," he added quickly.

Severus closed his eyes. "Studying werewolves?" he repeated softly.

"Remus was there, too," Lily spoke up.

He looked down at her. Her eyes were open now, and they looked darker in the dusk-light, smoky emerald ringed by thick, curling lashes. They swept her pale cheek as she blinked. Around her face like a searing corona of molten copper, her hair fell in soft waves, delicate and undulating. Her lips drew his eyes, pale pink and luscious, and he suddenly longed with burning need to kiss the soft pillow of her mouth. He restrained himself, barely, and felt his face warm with embarrassment as he quickly glanced away. A pink tinge appeared in Lily's cheeks, as if she had been aware of his thoughts, and her tongue darted out to lick her lips.

He stifled a groan and instead looked at Regulus. Regulus at least did not drive him mad with twofold desire- flesh and blood. Thankfully, the Black appeared to have missed (or was politely ignoring) Severus' sudden discomfort.

"Why was Lupin there?" he sneered.

Regulus and Narcissa suddenly gained looks very similar to Rotted-Branch before full moon- predatory and hungry.

He didn't know what Lily looked like, as he was pointedly avoiding her gaze. He didn't think he could control a blush if he looked at her again. It was the absence, he decided. He always found it more difficult to steer his thoughts away from _that _when he had been away from Lily. Maybe he got used to it. More likely, he became so used to thinking it he forgot otherwise.

"Well..." Narcissa began. "We found out you, Potter, Sirius and Pettigrew had left all at once...and it seemed suspicious. We thought you had been attacked again."

Severus scowled. It was polite of Narcissa to say 'attacked' instead of 'thoroughly beaten-up'.

"But Lupin stayed behind," Regulus continued. "Which was then I realized it was strange that Lupin 'happened' to be ill at the night before you had also 'fallen ill' and Sirius, Potter and Pettigrew had been excluded. We were thinking about it until we realised how strange it was that Lupin's bouts of 'illness' 'happened' to coincide with the full moon..." He trailed off meaningfully.

Severus nodded.

"So we confronted him." Narcissa smirked at the memory. "He confirmed he was a werewolf, you had been bitten and told us he had overheard Dumbledore coming to see you after the full moon."

The werewolf swallowed. He remembered all too well the fevered, insane days after the full moon, sweet agony lost in a wolf mind, until he had woken, weeks later, in the depths of a wood he didn't know.

"Dumbledore said he was taking you to the 'Institute'. So of course, we immediately decided to begin research to find out where it was and how we could help."

Shocked, the Slytherin stared at the trio. "What?"

"You think we'd abandon you?" Narcissa scolded.

_Yes, _thought Severus numbly. He had thought that. "I'm a half-breed." He said slowly, waiting for them to come to the realisation. "I'm...a monster..."

Lily slapped him.

Before he could stop himself, Severus snarled, a rich, low sound of threat. His hand flew to his cheek and his eyes flashed gold as he stumbled to his feet. His wolf senses thrilled, searching for the threat.

"You are not a monster!" Lily snapped, her green eyes ablaze. She had stood up too, and her wand was in the air between them.

She looked beautiful when she was angry. Her eyes snapped and flashed. He was unable to tear his gaze from them.

"You are not a half-breed!" Narcissa appeared next to Lily, and the slender woman's frame seemed too frail a vessel for her fury. Her grey eyes roiled like iron-grey sea in a vicious thunderstorm.

"Sit down," said Regulus in a placating manner, "Severus knows he is not _such a complete IDIOT _to think that."

"He'd better," hissed Narcissa venomously. She sat down slowly, keeping her eyes on him all the time. Lily followed her lead. Severus gulped, glancing anxiously between one furious female to the other. Some male part of him advised him he'd better hurry up and apologise before another male part of him was hacked off.

"Of course I didn't," he stammered. "I wouldn't ever- certainly not with you two as friends-"

Subtly, Regulus kicked him. He stopped talking.

"Anyway!" Regulus said too brightly, fooling no one, "One time we were a little too late and past curfew, so we had to creep back and Filch saw us so we had to run away and found this room!"

"It's good to be back," Severus said softly. This seemed to mollify the girls, and Lily smiled that heartbreaking smile that was the one reason he kept his head above the Dark some days, and Narcissa's eyes softened into that deep, soulrent regard of a trust so deep he feared death were he to break it, and Regulus beside him sat with that patient and both respectfully affectionate look in his handsome face more worthy of a brother than of a friend.

And they sat there, in the darkness, while outside, the pale white moon rose.

((()))

Remus didn't know what to do.

The other Gryffindors were rowdy and excitable with three of their lions back from temporary expulsion. Remus should have joined them. Remus should be carousing with them. Because after all, all three were his best friends.

Or were they?

He didn't know. The lines were too blurred to make sense. Friend, enemy, how could he decide?

Beside him sat Sirius.

The Black was cold, reserved and had spoken nary a word since he had sat down. He had made immediately for Remus, who had sat next to Lily Evans. Compared to the ebullient, effusive Sirius of before...there was no comparison. What had been done to Padfoot?

"Pads?" Remus asked softly. "Are you alright?"

Sirius sighed beside him, picking at his food. Across from them, James exploded into laughter at some joke.

"Remus...I don't think I can do it anymore." He finally admitted in barely more than a whisper, a whisper anyone else's ears would have missed.

Remus was shocked beyond belief. "Do what?" Remus finally asked his friend gently.

Sirius raised tortured dark eyes to him. "Maraud. Be a marauder. Be a Gryffindor. Hate Slytherins. Hate my family. I don't think I can be Padfoot anymore, Remus."

Remus blinked. He realised he was probably doing a fantastic impression of a dying fish. He closed his mouth.

Sirius' use of Remus' real name told the other Marauder only too well that he really was being honest. He chose his words carefully, "I...you're not the only one."

"What?" Sirius stared at him in shock, though there was light in his grey eyes.

In a quiet whisper, Remus related everything to the other boy. By the end of his tale, Sirius was the one doing the goldfish impression.

"Oi! Rem- come on up here, come on, come on..." raucously James tried to pull him onto the table where he was jumping around with the rest of the Gryffindor idiots, but Remus managed to smile shakily and say, "Not now, Prongs...not now..."

"What're you talking to Black for, anyway?" Peter suddenly demanded. He shared a look with James.

"Why not?" Remus asked, confused.

"He's a filthy Death-Eater! He tried to murder some student and pin it on me!" James shouted back. Prongs jumped off the table, to glare at Sirius. Remus half-glanced instinctively at McGonagall, who was taking the other Gryffindors to task sternly.

"No I didn't!" Sirius replied heatedly. Remus wondered where Lily had gone. "I didn't try and pin it on you! And I'm not a Death-Eater!"

"Oh, really?" James sneered. "All your family's evil, Black."  
"James, what-" Remus began, but Peter cut him off.

"You're with us or you're against us, Lupin," Peter snarled, and James looked surprised at his initiative, but then nodded sharply.

Remus hesitated. James and Peter both knew his secret. If they told...

"Well, I'm against you," Sirius spat. His grey eyes flashed. Back straight, he turned and stalked away, like the haughty purebred lordling he had been raised to be.

For a split-second, Remus half-turned back towards James and Peter. James had a vicious, triumphant smirk on his face- a smirk equalled only when he had tortured Snape with all his heart.

It took him another split-second to watch the gloating leave James' face to turn to blank shock as Remus sprinted out of the hall, shouting, "SIRIUS!"


	11. Dr Suess

**I normally always reply to my reviewers in PM, but guest's reviewers, I'll reply to here.**

**Cora, a wonderful image **_**indeed. **_***salacious wink* Jokes aside I'm now kind of beginning to wonder why I didn't leave an opening for that in the plot...**

**Lady Sif- Yeah, I loved writing it too. I couldn't help it, and those around me were giving me the oddest looks for randomly snorting every four seconds. Laughing at my own jokes is **_**not **_**funny.**

**Elsie- You're welcome! I've been looking forward to writing the reunion since they left!**

**Guest- (in response to chapter 9) Sorry I didn't get back sooner. Sirius knows Remus well, and he most likely knows quite a bit about werewolf mannerisms. It would be a bit of a disaster if Remus shifted every time the Marauders pissed him off.**

**If I missed anyone- please feel free to flame me. *hides* I'm sorry! I'm sorry! *looks around, then hisses* Unique made me do it! Rolling the chapter! (I love the number eleven. Seems so graceful)**

Chapter Eleven

"_**You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dream**__**s."**______**―**____**Dr. Seuss**_

He came to with the drugged slowness of a person quite sure they had died and gone to heaven; a fragile caterpillar ensnared within webs of gossamer sheets.

Languidly, he stretched his thin frame - perfectly held at ease upon the yielding softness - from a tight ball into a lithe dark line, the skin flowing with practiced artistry over the up-thrust, definite shapes of an elbow, the jutting collarbone, the sharp, defined edge of the jaw. Light shifted almost caressingly over browned cheeks; creating dips of shadow beneath the protruding cheekbones; emphasizing the proud, curved nose almost in silhouette; stroking the weary bruises beneath the delicate lids; sparkling in the honey-coloured eye that slipped open, as if fool's gold had been imprisoned within one lazy stare.

Pale lips dusked with only the barest amount of pink furled back in a terrific yawn; pointed teeth flashed indolently. Hair as dark as a raven's wing fell softly across a smouldering emerald bedspread embroidered in a careful hand with fine silver. Pillows as white a virgin's innocence cradled the resting head; green silk hangings, supporting by ornately carved wooden posts and glowing gently with the intricate lines of spellwork, curtained away the outside world.

The bed so soft, so luxuriant, he was almost certain it was a hallucination, and in nary more than a second for a bitter pang of resentful longing, he would harshly wake in his lumpy, hard bed, with a ragged coverlet tugged over his shivering frame in the ice-bound forest, or coiled on the dusty, cold floor beneath his bed in Spinner's End, blankets draped over the side of the bed and pillows piled within it to hide his presence there.

So he cracked open his eyes, expecting disappointment but hoping against it...and found himself wonder-struck. He _was _nestled in the security and comfort of the Slytherin fifth-year dormitories, with the ancient four posters with their silken hangings and rich bedspreads. Where the medieval tapestry of Elizabeth Burke and delicately wrought silver lanterns hung from the dark-stoned ceiling, where the soothing sound of the lake-water lapping against the windows would often lull a nightmare-plagued Slytherin to restful sleep at night. Where he could claim sanctuary from the rough abrasiveness of the other Houses, and relax within the den of snakes, secure that whilst Slytherins may not like each other and guarded their heart's secrets jealously, as far as they were concerned every snake was one of the elite- one of theirs- in the close-knit brother- and sisterhood of Slytherin House.

Slytherins took care of their own. They always had, they always would.

So it was with a relief close to tears Severus Snape finally managed to accept, to understand, he was back, he was home.

Reaching underneath his pillow, his searching hand found his treasured wand. Fervently he vowed never to under-sympathise with wizards and witches whom had lost their wand. He could feel the welcoming magic thrumming under his fingertips. He'd been cut off from it ever since he had arrived from the Institute, having it back felt like a missing limb reunited, or the greeting of a lost best friend.

He cast a quick tempus- half-eight. He sighed. He would have loved to loll in bed for longer, savouring the silken pleasure of the sheets on his skin, the warmth of the duvet (that actually didn't have _any _holes) and the softness of the pillow, but he knew any moment Regulus would come bursting through the door and annoy him into wakefulness. It happened, without fail every morning. Apart from in the holidays, wherein Regulus would suddenly find himself transported to the middle of the Black Lake if he tried to awaken Severus any earlier than ten o clock. He smirked to himself.

Irritating though he was, though Severus as he reluctantly pulled back the hangings, letting the material slide through his fingers as warm lantern-light caused him to blink, Regulus made a good alarm clock.

He took his carefully folded Slytherin robes and the simple slacks and shirt he wore underneath them and crept, cat-footed, into the bathroom. Mulciber and Avery were still asleep- Severus was invariably up and out before they were. He'd learned his lesson long ago in waking up Slytherins. It seemed Regulus still hadn't.

He showered quickly, borrowing Avery's shampoo. Avery never noticed, and it wasn't like Severus could particularly afford to waste money on cleaning products when he could nick his housemates', although along with most cheap shampoo it caused his hair's natural greasiness no favours. At least it was clean, despite its appearance. Not everyone in Hogwarts could say the same, he thought distastefully.

Once he was clean and dry, he dressed, meticulously paying attention to detail, such as the exact knot of his tie, clearly showing the five patterned stripes of green and silver that portrayed his status as a fifth year. It wouldn't do to miss showing a stripe and be mistaken as a fourth year.

Gryffindors may wear their top-buttons loose and their ties askew, but Slytherins had decorum and very fierce prefects perfectly willing to 'politely show' how a Slytherin should be properly dressed. If the rule-breaker persisted, then the house was mostly unanimous in if they didn't dress with the sense of a Slytherin, they didn't deserve the robes of one. These robes could vanish at any point of the day...in the crowded Great Hall...lessons...any point where the others could point and laugh. (Of course, Gryffindors were always mysteriously found guilty.)

Dressed, he met Regulus just before the younger boy was about to burst in through the door. The Black smirked at him. Severus unobtrusively ran his eye over Regulus' appearance- nothing was out of place.

"Good morning, Severus," Regulus greeted cordially enough, though his grey eyes glittered with barely suppressed mirthful malice. "Sleep well?" He was of course, referring to how Severus fell asleep on the common room sofa the previous night as Narcissa was talking, been woken by a sharp hex, subjected to a lecture on rudeness, and then hauled into bed and told not to bother getting out again until morning.

Severus levelled him with a cold glare. "Perfectly, thank you," he bit off.

Abashed, Regulus dropped his gaze. The Slytherins descended the stairs. Narcissa was not there, though that didn't surprise him. No doubt the blonde had either gone on to breakfast or was still in her rooms, prettying herself.

A few serpents lounged on the black and green sofas, talking quietly, or sitting in silence. The greenish hue of the light filtering in through the lake's surface high above the dorms gave everyone a pallid look. Severus quelled a few covert stares of curious first-years. Not to say that everyone else wasn't privately curious where he had been; the first-years just weren't as good at disguising it yet.

A few of the elder Slytherins he knew beyond passing acquaintance gave him sharp nods. Lucius Malfoy gave him a considering stare along with it, and Severus knew eventually he was going to have to answer questions.

They exited the common room and headed briskly along the hallways towards the Great Hall. Walking together had quickly become a good arrangement for the both of them, as it prevented the other Houses from singling them out. The Marauders, Severus had been pleased to note in the past, tended not to bother him beyond snide insults when he was with Regulus, clearly Sirius was still a little apprehensive of hexing his little brother, whom according to Regulus he had been extremely close to before his Sorting. Most Slytherins travelled in pairs or more.

Slipping into the Great Hall, Severus instinctually scanned the surroundings for signs of trouble. There was none, so he made his way over the end of the Slytherin table, where he normally sat. Regulus sat beside him without prompt.

Normally, Severus would eat a light meal for breakfast, probably eggs, toast, some sort of hash brown (he loved them) or occasionally muesli or similar bowl of cereal. But today he found himself piling all the meat within reach upon his plate, and digging in with the hunger of a starving wolf. Regulus eyed him with no little amount of horror. No doubt his pureblood sensitivities were offended by the voracious manner Severus was attacking his food, but the werewolf couldn't bring himself to care.

_Damn, _he was starving.

It was only after he had slaked his initial hunger he limply tried a few non-meat products. They were disgusting. Toast tasted like cardboard in his mouth. Eggs were stomachable, but hardly any better. Glumly, Severus considered his breakfast of the day and concluded, if he continued to eat like this, he would quickly catch the wizard variation of scurvy. That in mind, he choked down some green beans, carrots and parsnips, though he had to take a rather large gulp of pumpkin juice to rid himself of the aftertaste.

Narcissa joined them soon before class was due to start. The blonde ate succinctly, and the trio indulged in some quiet chatter before they went their separate ways, nonsensical ruminations on nothing much at all. Until Narcissa happened to say softly, "Are you staying for the holidays this year, Severus?"

He looked at her slightly blankly. Overhead, the Hall swirled in muddy greys and blustery snowfall. Surely, it was not that close to the holidays yet?

"One more week," Regulus added. "You forgot, didn't you?"

He blinked. "Yes..." he said, finally. "Er..."

It seemed strange that it was only a week left. He'd been swamped with catch-up work from all the teachers in the Institute and had tried to the best of his ability to complete it, despite his rather patchy time-schedule. But he had not suspected so much time had passed. As Rotted-Branch was fond of saying, only a hungry wolf watches the time.

But that meant that he had to go and buy Christmas presents. He nearly groaned. He hated buying Christmas presents.

He was still pondering the upcoming disaster of Yule when Regulus snapped his fingers in front of his face and said loudly, "Snape, it's ten to nine. Come on, let's go."

Coming back to the real world sharply, he grinned sheepishly and followed Regulus out of the Great Hall. With a nod, Narcissa went off to Herbology, Regulus to sleep through History of Magic, and Severus to Charms. He was still pondering what to get people, and whether it was still viable for him to stay at Hogwarts with his...condition, and the moon he could feel rapidly approaching through his free period and lunch. He only truly woke up in Ancient Runes...

It was a small class, but Professor Babbling seemed quite pleased with its size. Regulus, Lily, Severus and Narcissa took Ancient Runes, Lily because they sounded interesting, Severus because Lily was taking them, and Reg and Cissa because their family made them.

Mostly made up of Ravenclaws, there were a few Slytherins and one Hufflepuff, and Lily was the only Gryffindor there. There were tiny desks that students were forced to cram in pairs behind, but considering the size of the class there were never much problems with space.

Lily was next to Severus, and he was finding it somewhat difficult to concentrate on Professor Babbling when a so much better source of distraction was sat right next to him. With his heightened senses, he was noticing so many things that he had just _missed _previously, like the exact texture of the polished wood, the softness of his feather quill, the scratch of the quill against parchment, the tiny droplet of ink welling along it's tip and the exact colour of Lily's hair in the sunlight, burnished red-copper-gold, the sparkle in her green eyes when she answered a question, the glitter of light motes across her skin, the tiny lines of creases in her mobile face.

He was both relieved and disappointed when Runes ended, and he ended up shouldering his heavy bag newly laden with ridiculous amounts of homework towards the common room, when Lily tugged his arm. "You're going the wrong way," she told him, and grinned. It was such a beautiful, heartfelt expression of innocent joy he could not even rouse himself to ask why.

He followed her mutely, having no real idea where the hell she was going, and wondering sadly if he was going to be such a pushover _all _his life, when they stopped outside a familiar blood-streaked tapestry of dancing dragons. Of course, he thought wryly, the Place.

She pushed aside the tapestry and unlocked the door. They ducked inside.

With a sigh of relief, Lily threw her bag on the floor and sprawled inelegantly onto the cushions. "I swear they are trying to kill us," she moaned.

He chuckled and sat down possibly a bit more gracefully, and pulled out a piece of parchment. "What's that?" she asked.

"Charms," he replied, wrinkling his nose. "Colour changing."

"Let me help," said Lily, sitting up, her long red hair falling across his shoulder as she leaned forward. "Oh yeah, I know this..."

They worked together with the ease of long-friends, puzzling over their Runes and working through Severus' Charms with ease. He enjoyed the time with Lily, it was good to have his best friend back again.

He beat back all slightly-over-friendly thoughts with unerring persistence, but by the time dinner rolled around, he was glad to have some excuse to get up and move away from the confined, Lily-smelling space. His werewolf senses availed to him so much more to drive him privately insane.

He headed immediately over to Regulus and Narcissa at the Slytherin table. Narcissa looked tired already, and was absently writing her Potions essay. He slid into the seat next to her and read over her shoulder. "That's wrong," he corrected softly, "Asphodel and jarvin leaf are more likely to give a poisonous to toxic reaction than sleeping and calming. You're getting confused with wormwood and asphodel- the Draught of the Living Death."

Blinking, Narcissa reread the paragraph, thanked him, and corrected it. Regulus was apparently absorbed in a Transfiguration textbook, and answered his friendly attempts to make conversation with dull grunts. Eventually, he gave up talking to his noncommittal and anti-social when they had a job to be done friends, and pulled out his half-finished Runes.

He was staring in bemusement at the eighth translation when unexpectedly; Lupin walked over and dropped into the seat next to Regulus. Even more oddly, the other Slytherins only scowled and pointedly looked away. He blinked at the other werewolf, feeling nonexistent hackles rising. He glowered, his golden eyes narrowing, piercing into the other's calm brown eyes.

Lupin smelled of wolf...a challenging wolf.

A low, rich growl rumbled out of his throat. Lupin looked alarmed. "Severus- what are you-"he began, but he cut him off with another snarl. His hand edged towards his wand.

A flash of gold rose in Lupin's eyes, and determinedly, the other werewolf looked away. Not quite mollified, Severus sank back into his chair.

"Sorry," he apologised finally, slightly embarrassed. He had just apologised to a Gryffindor that was not Lily. The world was going to end.

"Er- it's fine...I shouldn't have assumed..." Awkwardly, Lupin nodded and then turned to Regulus and said in a much lower tone, "He says its fine. He'll help."

"Who will? With what?" Severus asked immediately, and Lupin grimaced, as if he had forgotten Severus too possessed incredible hearing.

"Nothing," Narcissa reassured him with a delicate touch on his wrist. Once again, Severus subsided, although he glared at his friends.

They were up to something...and he was determined to find out what.


	12. The Sweet Far Thing

Chapter Twelve

"_**It is chaos. Madness and blood and the hunger to win. It has always been thus and shall always be so."**______**―**____**Libba Bray**__**,**____**The Sweet Far Thing**_

_He was running, running through a dimly-lit forest. At his left side ranged a slim, powerful wolf, with jet-black fur to match his own, and on his right, a similar creature, but this was more doglike, and larger. Beside the dog bounded a proud stag, his pronged head raised high, and beside the wolf, a strong, sleek black panther. In front of them ran a young woman, with long, red hair, green eyes, and a tinkling laugh that echoed through the woods._

He felt restless, bored even, an unidentified itch driving him quietly insane. He twitched, head jerking to side to side as he shot feverish snaps around the low-cast common room. The darkness that reached up to lap around him, caressing the shadows of his form with murky fingers were banished by a final, frantic little whine. Firelight cast mocking patterns over his face as he shied closer to warmth, only to leap away as the remembered feeling of sparks in his fur burned.

The water pressed against the windows, he imagined the strain of its weight on the fragile glass, imagined the dam breaking, floodwater rushing, gushing in, the screams of the Slytherins as they floundered, the hiss of the fire as it was swept out and he _wanted it to happen _because oh god, if this was living he wanted to die he couldn't deal with it no no not now he couldn't do this please just murder him now quickly God please...

Restlessly he leapt to his feet. He wanted to run, run, run, run, run and keep running until his legs were sore and his feet bled. The smells in here were driving him insane. Warm, mouthwatering, gorgeous human scent. He felt a shiver rip through his slender frame. His nails dug into his palms.

He thought of Lily.

His blood burned with savage need.

He thought of ripping into her, seeing that pale flesh pulled from her gentle bones, and nearly moaned.

"Hey..." Regulus, beside him, who'd been quietly checking through his essay, began snapping out a retort, only to observe his friend's obvious distress.

"Merlin, Severus, are you alright?" He seemed to flow upwards, moving with shifting grace towards the shaking werewolf.

As he came closer, Severus made no acknowledgement. His face was buried in his hands, his fingers clutching his temples, trying to hold himself together as his body ripped apart. A weak groan escaped tightly clenched lips. _Kill me, kill me, i must be dying._

_No! I am Severus Snape! I will not change._

_will not_

_no_

_oh lily lily help me im too weak i cant do this myself_

_severus i am severus_

Regulus knelt beside his friend, patting one taut shoulder uncomfortably. "Sever-" That was as far as he got.

Teeth bared, he whipped around and before Regulus could do more than gape the werewolf's teeth had sunk into the other's neck.

Regulus cried out, was bowled backwards, sprawling painfully against the lush carpeted floor. Above him, the wolf in his best friend's body snarled madly, and the twin fires of golden insanity surveyed him hungrily. Sharp nails, too long to be human, curled over Regulus' wrists, holding him down.

A pitiful whimper escaped the wolf, and the slim frame convulsed, Regulus bit back a hiss as Severus nearly snapped his wrists. He'd have some interesting bruises tomorrow, he thought wryly, and then his brain kicked in, and he suddenly realised _there would be no tomorrow._

Severus was shaking even harder now, and by the strange, impossible shapes his spine snapped into, Regulus knew he was just about to Change. The common room was abandoned. No one would help them, on a sunny, warm day like this. Calmly, Regulus considered his upcoming death. By all accounts, savage ripping apart by a werewolf was a terrible thing. But at least, he thought, quelling the shaking fear that turned his innards to ice as he met the murderous stare of his brother, he would rather it was done by Severus.

It was a shame, however, that his blood would be splattered everywhere. What a sight for his cousin.

Severus bit him again, on the shoulder this time. He hissed in pain and tried to buckle underneath the werewolf, push him away.

Suddenly, the slitlike pupils seemed to widen, just barely, and a choked cry escaped his friend's lips. Jerkily Severus pushed away from Regulus, who warily massaged his injured shoulder and tried to ignore the stinging agony, and fell against a window, curling into the glass, hissing and snarling with onset of the Change.

"Get me out," Severus moaned. "Get...somewhere..."

Regulus' brain switched on like a lightbulb. _Of course._

"Floppy!" He cried. Even through the madness of the Change, Severus found time to give him a incredulous look.

"Floppy?" he gasped. "_floppy?"_

A tiny, ugly house elf appeared in front of Regulus. "Master Re-"

"Floppy, take Severus to the Forbidden forest, _now, _then get me to Sirius," Regulus gabbled urgently. Seeing the frown beginning to crease the tiny face, he screamed, "Kreacher!"

An even uglier house elf appeared, and Regulus roared his commands at it. Within seconds, it was done, and Regulus appeared with a _thud _right on top of Sirius Black.

Who was, predictably, lounging outside with almost the entire school.

"Regulus? How-"Sirius began, but Regulus cut him off and began whispering urgently in his brother's ear.

"You're an Animagus, right?" He snarled, gripping Sirius' shoulder.

Sirius blinked at him sharply. "Er...yeah, how did you-"He began to question suspiciously.

"Severus," Regulus snapped, "He's changing, in the Forbidden Forest- take Kreacher, get there, please. Stop him from getting close..." He swept an arm around at the sunbathing students, indictating the wholesale slaughter it could become.

Sirius was staring in horror at the blood fountaining onto the grass. He wasn't the only one.

It was as if no one understood him, they were all staring him blankly, like idiots and _Merlin hurry up or he'll kill you. _

"Bloody hell-" Sirius stared to indicate Regulus' neck and shoulder, rapidly soaked with Black blood.

"Regulus-" Lily began to cry, running up to them, but he shushed her with one wild motion. He gripped his brother's arm. "Go," he pleaded. "And come back."

For a rare moment, it seemed as time slowed down. The hesitance in Sirius' eyes gave way to resolution, and the grey eyes hardened into resolution. A cocky smile wrapped his brother's lips, and for a brief moment it was just them, like when they had been little and Reg had dared his heroic older brother to nick the cookie jar from the kitchen. "Of course, what's one teenage werewolf to Sirius Black?" Sirius grinned, and then added, almost shyly, "...brother."

Regulus nearly passed out, though that could of been because of the blood pumping out of his neck with increasing rapidity. "Thank you," he gasped. "Kreacher, take him to Severus...not a word to anyone else about this..." he commanded belatedly, aware of the curious stares of the rest of the school, clearly trying to eavesdrop on the hurriedly whispered conversation.

"Yes Master Regulus!" Kreacher cried, and they disappeared with a _crack. _He allowed himself to slump.

"Black-" Lupin eyed him with alarm. His eyes glowed briefly gold. "You're bleeding- that's a werewolf bite..." Lupin shivered slightly, gold-brown eyes tracking the blood running down Regulus' arm and chest, though he swallowed and resolutely looked into Regulus' eyes instead.

Sagging with relief, Regulus all but fell forward, and Lupin and Evans rushed forward and gently supported him. Vaguely Regulus noted that the entire school was staring at them, and Madam Pomfrey was running as fast as she could towards him.

"Oh for Merlin's sake," Regulus swore, seeing the amber-gold in Lupin's brown eyes, "Not you too, you filthy little..." If Remus changed, Sirius couldn't handle the both of them...

"It's not full moon!" Lily yelped. Her green eyes were bright and glittering with tears.

"Doesn't matter," Lupin said absently, and Lily pursed her lips, her green eyes flashing. Regulus did not pause to try and find out why she was upset. He said something else, but Regulus couldn't hear him.

"Lupin," Regulus managed to grind out, "you change, you bloody change, I'm gonna bloody kill you." He would...he would...

Then he fell into Madam Pomfrey's arms and passed out.

((()))

Sirius reappeared somewhere in the middle of the Forest. Darkness was heavy here, and the world smelled of wild magic, untouched forest and blood. Kreacher disappeared with nary a word to Sirius, but the Gryffindor did not care. Kreacher's dislike of him had always been mutual.

He could not see the sky above for the towering pines, and the cool embrace of fey magic enveloped him. For a brief moment, he swayed and closed his eyes, his wizard's blood rising to the dark call saturating these untamed woods. Shadows mocked the edges of his vision. Harsh laughter reverberated from somewhere, he whipped around, but he was alone. Dancing shapes refused to define themselves. Shivers crept up his spine.

He was not welcome here.

A furious howl shattered the crypt-bound silence. The desperate voice of his brother warning him echoed through his consciousness, and before he quite knew what he was doing, he was running towards the sound.

_He had to get there. He had to get there before Snape killed himself._

He would, too. Sirius may not be a world expert on werewolves, but he had some fair knowledge after such a long friendship with Moony, and knew without a doubt that Snape did not have Remus' restraint, his patience...nor his self-loathing of his darkness, and his fear of harming others. Remus may not think it, but his own nature had some influence on the wolf's.

Whereas Snape...who stood always half-immersed in the Dark Arts, who walked among the shadows as a friend, who's cruelty and savagery was fully present...wild, angry Snape, who had none of Remus' gentleness...

He skidded to a halt just as he came to a clearing in a minor explosion of pine needles and dirt. Helplessly, he gaped, his muscles locked in place.

Severus was Changing.

Muscles warping, bones snapping, fur sprouting out of pale skin, claws shooting out of nails, snout bulging forwards, spine cracking into position...

For so long, Sirius and his friends had bullied Snape. They'd all remarked at some point (excepting Moony) what fun it was, how good it would be to _truly break _the snake, and Sirius and James had always been the most outspoken of all of them...Clear as day, Sirius remembered one night planning pranks in the common room...James had been lounging by the fire, Sirius across a couch, Peter curled up on the other end, Moony's head buried in a book...

"_One day...I'm going to get back at Snape..."_

"_Filthy Death-Eater..."_

"_I wonder..." _Pete had said, and there was a strange cruelty in his voice..."_what it would be like..."_

"_...What?"_

"_...to use _crucio..._"_

This, Sirius thought numbly, _this _was what it was like.

Snape writhed at Sirius' feet, in the mud, pale skin marred by whiplash and old scars, yawning wounds gaping with wet, red mouths, laughing at him, mocking, laughing, _oh merlin, screaming._

Sirius screamed. It was horrible. It was...ohmerlinmoonyhowareyoustillalive

His single cry was eclipsed by the Slytherin's screams, horrific heartrending wails of agony. Snape's spine snapped back, and feverish golden eyes were suddenly staring at him, _youmademethislookwhatyou'veturnedmeinto _blaming him, blaming everyone, and the horror and hatred in Snape's eyes were so absolute Sirius wanted nothing more than to join him in death. He staggered backwards, and not a moment too soon, as suddenly Snape seemed to explode outwards into a fury of black fur, mad golden eyes and snapping teeth.

Some deep instinct prompted Sirius to rip into his animagus form, and not a moment too late, as Snape's teeth closed around empty air. An angry howl rent the air. Immediately, Snape sprang at Padfoot, and they went rolling.

Padfoot snarled back, shook the werewolf off, and took off running.

A galvanised howl and then the drum of pounding feet. Like a sleek, dark shadow, the wolf seemed to melt out of the darkness beside him.

Padfoot's rhythm staggered as suddenly images pressed into his mind, blood-arcing-into-the-sky, running, and then a questioning thought of a large black dog.

_What? _This was completely new.

Taking advantage of his momentary weakness, a wall of black muscle slammed into his side, and the powerful wolf tumbled him into the mud again.

Blood-in-the-Sky...Blood-in-the-Sky...

_Padfoot, I'm Padfoot. _Large black dog running, running beside two wolves, a stag, a panther, chasing...chasing...

Blood-in-the-Sky howled and nosed Padfoot in an almost...friendly-savage (_onedayi'llkillyoubutnotnow)_ manner, his teeth tearing a rent in Padfoot's shoulder. The accompanying thought-image was of warmth, friendship, and a large dog running at a wolf's side. _(mine?)_

_Bloodskypadfoot._

Padfoot barked. Blood-in-the-Sky raised his blood-stained muzzle and howled.

_bloodskypadfootbloodskypadfoot_

Far, far away, Rotted-Branch-in-Wintertime howled back.

**A bit of an odd chapter, this one. Right, READ THIS. For my hundredth reviewer, I will write one scene of their choice to celebrate, yay! I can't believe hundred reviews is so close...come on guys, you can do it! You may choose what it's about, time, place, characters and a prompt, I'll try to do my best...**

**And I apologise for the wait, and the crappy chapter. **


	13. Wish You Could See

**I'M REALLY SORRY, I'VE COMPLETELY MESSED UP. I've just put chapter 14 up, not 13...oh dear...I apologise to all of those who are probably reading my replies to your reviews with complete bafflement...**

Chapter 13

"_**Today please would it be that day,**_

_**Though I know I can't demand.**_

_**That you will see what you do,**_

_**Unintentional, but there,**_

_**What do you have I don't too?**_

_**I feel like such worthless air.**_

_**I wish you really could see,**_

_**Truly how much you break me." – Unique. F, excerpt from Wish You Could See**_

It was midday, two days after the 'accident', as Regulus insisted on terming it.

Severus closed his eyes. He'd been back four days, and already he'd attacked his best friend and scarred him for life. The breeze buffeted him. He was standing at the height of the Astronomy Tower. The elements clustered around him harshly, for a single, free moment he considered throwing himself off.

His nails scratched gently over the long, pale, crisscrossing scars over his wrists, and he tipped his head back.

He couldn't. Not yet. Not now.

Choking back a soft cry, he fell to his knees.

How many would he destroy? How many would he kill? How many would he maim?

Rotted-Branch's mocking smile curled before his eyes. _"There is no taming a werewolf, Severus...There is only learning when to unleash it."_

She was right. He wasn't safe. He couldn't...couldn't go on like this.

Thoughts of Lily flashed through his mind. How selfish he was...would he kill her, too?

_No! _The thought was instantaneous. Anything...anything but that...

No. He would not allow it to happen...He would have to leave, he thought wildly, he would return to the Institute- take up leadership of the pack there, as Rotted-Branch had always wanted him to, and be alone...alone...

He whirled around, and all but ran down the steps, down, towards his common room. His eyes flashed dark gold. He had not long. The world seemed to slow and become crystal clear before him- faceted and brilliant as tears.

Before, however, he could duck into his common room, Lily confronted him, her eyes ablaze, her hair like fiery lava around her sweet face.

"Where are you going?" she demanded, and his heart broke with what he was going to have to do.

"Leaving," he said shortly, and drank in the sight of her- never again would he set eyes on her...never again.

"Leaving?" she drew herself up in rage. "Why? You can't leave!"

She wouldn't let him leave. Wouldn't...unless he hurt her beyond imagining. He swallowed. This was breaking him to even think of it... "Why would you care?" he asked sharply.

Offended, she glared at him. "I'm your friend, Sev!"

"Why would I care what you think?" he snarled, drew his own emotionless mask on, watched the pain in her eyes as his soul disappeared behind dark barriers, "You're just a filthy little Mudblood..."

She drew back, and tears sprang up in her eyes. "Sev...what...I..." Hardness hid the tears. "What is this?"

"I told you," he said coldly, "Does your filthy muggle blood affect your hearing, too?"

"Sev...Severus..." she whispered. "Why?" she was crying. She was crying, he'd made her cry...

He sneered. "Oh look, mudblood's crying, how sweet. Get out of my way, Evans," he hissed, and pushed her aside. Numbly, she let him.

He turned back, just barely, and saw her there, glaring, proud and upright, the only sign of her tears in the glimmer on her cheeks. "Fine, _Snivellous," _she hissed venomously, "Leave then. See if I care, _greasy slimeball." _She spat. "Potter was right about you." She turned on her heel, and stalked away.

He sank to the floor. He needed to do it. He did. He needed to leave. She wouldn't look for him, now...her safety was more important than his own happiness.

He barely ducked into his room, thanking Merlin Narcissa was in Hogsmeade and Regulus was still in the hospital wing, and grabbed his bag. Then he turned, rushed, and ran out of the castle, into the grounds, away from the village, into the Forest. Once out of the boundaries, he'd apparate to the airport, buy a ticket to Norway...if he had to, he'd confound his way there...

Suddenly, a shout halted him. "SEVERUS! Hey, SNAPE!"

It was Lupin.

Severus half-turned, not bothering to restrain a furious snarl of rage. "What do you want!" he screamed, the tremors of Change thick and fast.

Lupin rocked back on his heels. For the barest moment his eyes flashed amber-gold. "Where are going?" he asked, setting his jaw in a clear attempt to remain calm.

Infuriated, Severus hissed, "Leaving!" he snapped, and began striding back towards the Forest and the cherished abandon within.

"Leaving?" Lupin asked in puzzlement. "Where..." He caught on. "Snape, you can't leave! Lily-"  
"I have nothing to do with her," Snape snarled, and yanked his bag out of Lupin's half-grasp.

Lupin half-started forwards. "That's not true, she-"

"What?" he challenged, glaring directly into Lupin's eyes.

Remus half-jinked back, and then met his stare viciously, his eyes brightening to bright yellow. "Don't," Remus growled. "Don't. Challenge. Me."

A slow smirk stretched over Severus' lips, and he stepped forwards, right into Lupin's space. He could see the wolf's hackles rising. "Watch me," he hissed, softly.

Lupin's punch caught him right in the gut. Doubling over, Severus barely managed to roll away from the infuriated werewolf's next kick.

"What?" he challenged again, "Too scared to Change, are you? Frightened of yourself!" he mocked.

"I am not!" Lupin screamed, "I am not!"

"Coward," Severus drawled. He was on the floor now, and Lupin stood over him, his bright eyes gleaming with anger, but they both knew who had the upper hand here. "Coward!"

"I AM NOT A COWARD!"

"PROVE IT!"

Within seconds, a gigantic brindle brown wolf slammed into Severus' side. Claws raked gashed down his front. He ducked under Lupin's killing blow, and felt his muscles jerk free into his wolf.

Teeth caught Lupin's neck, paws scrabbled against Lupin's leg. Lupin howled, retaliated with a thumping hit that sent Severus flying into a tree trunk.

A loud, dismayed bark interrupted them, and a large dog suddenly seemed to leap out of nowhere, in between them. Severus and Lupin threw themselves at Padfoot, seeing only a threat. The dog pacified them, and a flurry of images passed back at forth. Severus reeled.

_Bloodsky-padfoot-bloodsky-padfoot-bloodsky-padfoot -moonyplease?_

_moonyplease(ours?)_

_mine _growled Remus. _You-are-mine(padfoot-moony-prongs-wormtail)_

_no _snarled Severus. _Bloodsky-padfoot-pack(fire-rotted-grey-sun-snow-ra in-flesh-blood-bonejaws-padfoot)_

Padfoot danced worriedly between them. _Both-both_

Severus rejected it with a snarl.

_Bloodsky-padfoot-moony _Padfoot insisted.

Lupin growled. The two wolves met each other's eyes across the wounded dog's back.

Their hard stares did not falter. Not faltering when Padfoot anxiously licked Moony's rapidly blood-soaked shoulder, nor when he similarly cautiously approached Blood-Sky.

At last, Lupin's eyes slid from Severus', and he was allowed to relax some of his muscles tensed to fight. Carefully, he approached, and Lupin dropped to his belly, and hopefully licked Blood-Sky's muzzle.

Blood-Sky snuffled, and absently licked the blood welling up on Moony's shoulder.

_(blood-sky-padfoot-moony) _he decided, and howled. Resting back on his haunches, Moony raised his head to join him, and eventually, the higher, weaker cry of a dog joined them.

**Proudly written at 00:03. I had to quickly trim a lot of this...oh merlin this has all gone badly wrong. I think this is most of it, now. **


	14. Marilyn Monroe

**I'm going to apologize for messing up the updating. All the replies to the reviews on the 12****th**** chapter are at the bottom of this one. Due to confusion, I'll just repost what has happened so far.**

_**The story begins before the Mudblood Incident, directly before the Werewolf Incident. Lily and Severus are still friends, but their relationship is shaky. Severus has become embroiled in the Dark Arts and supports his House, whereas Lily has kept with her more Gryffindor outlook and begins to doubt Severus. So their relationship is pretty fractured anyway. Severus is friends with Regulus and Narcissa, but not very close, as he is constantly trying to persuade Lily he is not dark, and being the wonderful, open-minded, non-prejudiced Gryffindor she is, she thinks all Slytherins are headed straight to U-No-Poo's chambers.**_

_**Then, Severus is forced to leave after being bitten, and the first dramatic change occurs. The Marauders are sent away- excepting Lupin- for extensive therapy. James, on the defensive, unable to accept his own guilt and confused, attacks Sirius about his family, and renounces their friendship. Lily re-invokes the feelings of friendship for Severus and misses him painfully, coming to some hard realisations about the less-than-perfect way she was treating him. Regulus and Narcissa, correctly guessing that he was attacked by a werewolf, are infuriated, not just on Severus' behalf originally, but also out of fear for themselves and the rest of the school. Lily begins to have her strange dreams, most often involving a golden-eyed, black-furred wolf that shows up most often, a panther with white eyes that you all seem so curious about, a slim black wolf that no one seems to care about, occasionally a stag, a black dog and a brown wolf that apparently you are all singularly unimpressed with.**_

_**The Slytherins attack Lily to promote House unity. Slytherins will always stick up for Slytherins, and now that the Marauders have gone, the self-preservation is no longer an issue. Regulus and Narcissa were most likely behind the attack, trying to get any information Lily might have.**_

_**When she proves useless, they confront Lupin and tell him to meet them at night. Lupin agrees, and is followed by Lily out of the common room, who has her suspicions that Severus was sent away because of the harmful result of a Marauder prank. She listens at the keyhole, and all three of them learn Lupin's secret. Lupin is torn up by guilt and self-loathing.**_

_**Narcissa finds Lily at the keyhole, but instead of cursing the pair of Gryffindors the Slytherins decide to enlist them to their advantage. Knowing that they have a huge threat/blackmail over Remus, they make Lily (who is at least loyal to her friend) and Lupin help them to find out where Severus went.**_

_**This is when everyone's alliance begins to form. At first rough, shaky and unwelcome, eventually the Gryffindors and Slytherins are more closely reunited with each other due to their common goal- and dare I say it? Dare I? A **_**Gryffindor...**_**and a **_**Slytherin...**_**enjoying each other's company? (Gasp) Never!**_

_**Dumbledore interferes, believing he can work Snape close to his side and, in concert, away from darkness. All for the Greater Good of course.**_

_**The Marauders return to Hogwarts, and you can see that therapy has worked on Sirius. He regrets how he forced Severus into becoming a werewolf and regrets his Death-Eaters-are-Slytherin attitude, but more believably for you atypical Marauder-lovers, (joking, joking) regrets what it must have cost Remus. He meets up with Snape on the train in the only free compartment (Sirius is still upset with James and the rest is all full of scary people) and apologizes. Severus is sceptical of his apology, but not averse to working it to his advantage. In truth, it doesn't seem like he cares much, more concerned with getting back and seeing his friends. In the Great Hall, Sirius manages to stop Severus from changing, and so Severus concludes that Sirius is no longer as bad as he was- and did not need to be targeted.**_

_**Severus returns; moods are high and joyful. All animosity is smoothed by the return they had worked for, for so long. Not gone, but smoothed, and a strong basis of friendship is made by Regulus, Narcissa, Lily and Severus. Remus breaks with James for Sirius, effectively cutting the Marauders firmly in two. Sirius admits he doesn't think he can be 'Padfoot' any more, meaning that he doesn't mean that he can continue to 'harmlessly prank' Slytherins, and hold with James' prejudice.**_

_**Evidence comes to light that Cissa, Reg, Lily and Loopy are planning something. For the first time, Severus' own 'inner wolf' plays up against Remus', but the dispute is unopened at this time, and crisis is –thankfully- averted. That would have been a special scene in front of the whole school...(rawr)**_

_**Severus is driven into his wolf form by restlessness, but bites Regulus when he is still human. Regulus calls Kreacher and has him take Severus to the Forbidden Forest. Regulus and Sirius are first shown beginning to reconcile with each other, and Sirius goes to help Severus, who then accepts him as a pack mate.**_

_**Severus decides he is too dangerous and uncontrolled (he is, but try tell Dumblebutt that...) to stay in Hogwarts, and makes plans for returning to the Institute. Lily tries to stop him, but he drives her away by calling her 'mudblood', with the intent that she would be so deeply hurt she would renounce their friendship and not look for him, thus putting herself in danger. Heartbroken and confused, Lily goes on the defensive, insults him in turn and then runs away. Worked in canon, didn't it?**_

_**Severus gets as far as the edge of the Forest when Remus catches up to him and tries to stop him. The tension between the two explodes, and they both fight it out, until Padfoot comes and forces them to accept each other. **_

**That's what's happened so far. Urgh...mental note to self- do not update at midnight. As some of you have read the previous chapter 14, I rewrote it. However, unfortunately most of the content may remain the same. Responses to reviewers! (and the longest an in history)**

**Guest2- He did hurt her. All those doubts, flaring back to life.**

**Cora- Don't count anyone for gone, just yet. I do deplore stories when people can actually follow what's happening in a logical manner, lol. I think I may have stumbled across the greatest, most loveliest, wonderful pack of Marauder-hating Snape-lovers there are. (which is a good thing, to the rest of you!) Lily gets crucified in Fiendfyre no matter what she does, apparently.**

_**HUNDREDTH REVIEW CHALLENGE IS UP- LUPIN'S FIRST USE OF WOLFSBANE, NAMED "AND THE GOBLET SMOKED." I think, anyway. **_

**I LOVE THE FIRST SENTENCE...MAKES ME LOL EVERY TIME I READ IT.**

* * *

Chapter 14

_**"I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best." - Marilyn Monroe**__**  
**_

When Severus Snape woke up, it was in the strange, unfamiliar, rather uncomfortable situation of finding himself stark-naked in an unknown location with another equally clothes-deprived teenage boy.

Black eyes opened, found themselves staring at another, slightly more familiar face. Weary brown eyes suddenly were revealed to hold him in deep regard.

It took another few moments for Severus and Remus' brains to kick in, and relate face to memory, memory to realisation.

A startled yelp more wolf than human burst from each throat.

Scrambling away from each other, they both hit the other wall of the small room they had, for reasons unknown, been locked in, Severus instinctively ducking behind the demolished bed- thankfully overturned- and Lupin dashing behind a squashy armchair, leaving only his head, scarred shoulders and forearms visible.

Warily, both werewolves stared at each other, Remus over his armchair, Severus over the ripped up bed.

"Umm," said Severus awkwardly. His hesitant voice broke the locked silence, and Remus jumped.

"Err, sorry about this," said Lupin contritely, running a hand through his sandy hair- a habit picked up from Potter, no doubt- and blushing bright red. "Errm..."

_What did one say, _thought Severus, _when in...this situation? _

"Do you have _any _idea _at all _where in Merlin's name we are?" Severus asked hopelessly. Was this another prank?

Lupin looked around. "The Shrieking Shack, I think. Someone must have put us here whilst we were..." he trailed off.

"Changed," Severus supplemented, and Remus nodded gratefully.

Straining his memory, Severus tried to recall what had happened. "The last thing I remember is running with you and Black," he confessed. He remembered howling, and then taking off towards the depths of the Forbidden Forest with a black dog and a brown wolf at his side.

"It's Sirius- Padfoot when he's a dog," Remus corrected absently. "He must have taken us here. I hope no one got hurt..." His brown eyes widened with shock and fear.

"I would have remembered," Severus assured him, holding Remus' eyes with his own dark, glittering black ones, although he was less than certain if that were true. To take his mind off the very real possibility, he studied the room around them. He barely remembered attacking Regulus, though he had some very disturbing impressions of a hot body squirming beneath him and the taste of blood in his mouth. He dearly hoped that had been Regulus and not some random person he had attacked at some point or other.

It had once been a rich display of luxury. The bed he was crouched behind had a ripped up mattress of goose feathers- scattered over most of the floor. The original carpet may have been a deep emerald (it was difficult to tell) at some point. Ripped and scarred, the cherry wood bed-frame once would have boasted an intricate play of snarling gargoyles, vines and prancing harts. By its side was a shattered bedside table, made of the same expensive wood as the bed-frame. The squashy armchair Lupin crouched behind had the clear hallmarks of being conjured; the shimmer of magic, the nonexistent seams, the lack of stitches, the uniform appearance of the stuffing revealed inside that despite being ripped out did not lose its shape. It was the only object that looked somewhat new.

This was where Lupin changed, then. Clear was the inhabitancy of a werewolf- fresh scar in the wood, ripped up floorboards, dried blood across the walls. No wonder people said the Shack was haunted, if they entered and found this.

"I think there are some clothes in the top drawer," Lupin broke the silence finally, indicating the cupboard next to the bed with a jerk of his chin. "I keep at least two pairs in each room, in case I end up there...afterwards."

Gratefully, Severus yanked the drawer open and tossed a pair of Muggle jeans and a simple black T-shirt at him. He himself quickly shimmied into the jeans, but found himself lacking a T-shirt.

"Hey, you gave me two," said Lupin, having dressed.

No longer needing anything to hide behind, the pair stood up, Lupin unobtrusively staring at the interplay of scars across Severus' too-skinny torso, especially at the shiny burn-scar stretching over one shoulder. Severus bit back a snarl- was it only Rotted-Branch who accepted scars with ease? Realising he was caught; Lupin quickly looked away, a slight redness on his cheeks.

_You don't know what he goes through! _Lily's words from first year, when she had confronted the Marauders about tormenting Severus, rang through his mind. He swallowed. He could clearly see each of Severus' ribs underneath his pale, pale skin, and the horrific scars- surely a few months of being a werewolf could do the same to him as it had to Remus over his whole life?

He pulled the T-shirt over his head, noting with surprise that he and Lupin were nearly exactly the same size. "Thanks," he said noncommittally, and Remus nodded.

"It's fine..." The other werewolf avoided his gaze. "Look..."

"If you're going to apologise again, don't bother," Snape snarled, taking Remus by surprise. He couldn't help but stare at the other. Severus appeared closed off, shuttered, his black eyes warming to the slightest hint of amber.

"Severus- your eyes!" he cried, taking Severus' forearms (kindly ignoring the other's flinch) and peering closely at his eyes' glittering obsidian depths. "They're black..._really _black."  
The other blinked in surprise. Remus noticed that Severus smelled much closer to his own scent than he had previously realised- pine, overturned leaves, mulch, and that warm, heavy smell of wolf. He tilted his head. "Black?"

"Usually, your eyes- when they're closer to their original colour- means you're more human," said Remus excitedly, leaning forwards to further study this phenomenon of control, ignoring Snape's nostrils flaring as he leaned away in turn.

"Yours are always brown. I've only seen them anywhere near gold...once." Severus told him, peering closely into Lupin's own eyes. Their noses bumped.

The door sprung open, and Bla- Sirius- walked through. He was met by a rather odd sight.

Severus Snape and Remus Lupin did not often spend a long time engrossed in the sight of each other's eyes, gripping each other's arms intently, without moving. Naturally, Sirius found himself gaping a little, then snapping his jaw shut and grinned mischievously, ruffled his dark hair (Merlin, was Potter infectious!) and said charmingly, "Am I interrupting anything?"

Remus felt utterly pole-axed when Severus smirked lazily at Sirius, tucked a possessive arm around Remus' waist and drawled, "Yes, Black. You interrupted our heartfelt-staring. You just have to wait your turn, I'm afraid."

"I apologise," grinned Sirius, "Next moon, yeah?"

"I'll clear my schedule," Severus promised, and released shell-shocked Remus with a teasing smirk. Remus blinked rapidly, his jaw hanging loose. Kindly, Severus closed it.

"Talking about the full moon," said Sirius slightly more seriously, "Do you think you can withhold the changing until then? I managed to chase you into the Shack by the skin of my teeth. Thankfully, no one noticed this time."

"This time," Severus repeated darkly, abruptly remembering how the argument how come to be.

_Lily...my Lily..._He had hurt her...Thoughts were too painful to consider. He could still see the tears in her beautiful eyes.

"You're not leaving!" Remus snapped, correctly guessing the train of thought Severus' mind was taking. Sirius rocked back on his heels, clearly somewhat surprised at mild Remus' fiery reply.

"I'm dangerous-" Severus began, but Sirius began to scoff.

"Oh, not you, too," he sighed loudly, rolling his eyes. "We had to deal with the _I'm dangerous _speech, how many times, Remus?"

Remus glared at him, Sirius met his stare with a light-hearted shrug.

"I bit-" Severus began, but was cut off.

"And I bit you," Remus rounded on Snape harshly. "I ripped into you, changed you, destroyed your life. Made you a pretty little monster trussed up in human skin just like me. I'm still here, aren't I? _I _haven't been sent home- Merlin knows I should just be Kissed!"  
"You didn't have a choice-"

"And neither did you- you were mental from the Change! I know what that's like, Severus. You're unstable- a new werewolf- and with a personality like yours-"  
"What do you mean, a personality like mine!?" Severus flared.

"You fight fire with fire," Remus replied, unruffled, "You're one of the most intense people I've ever met. You have no _medium _button. Werewolves work on emotions. When your emotions get out of control- you change."

Severus was silent, his now-amber eyes contemplative.

"You can learn to control it," Remus said softly, "You'll only change at full moon."

"There has to be something-" Severus said distractedly, "Something that would make me safe. A potion, or a spell...something that can at least make a werewolf keep its mind during the change...even if it can't stop them changing entirely..." _And then Lily would be safe. I would be able to stay at Hogwarts...with Lily. But she wouldn't want me anymore. "Potter was right about you..." _The thought hurt so badly he skittered away from it, as much to avoid the conclusion as to preserve his sanity.  
"Impossible," said Remus weakly. Such a thing...would be too much to hope for...

Snape's eyes glowed bright gold with the challenge. "If there isn't anything- I'll invent it!" He cried, looking feverish and more than a bit mad, "I've invented plenty of potions, spells-" (_dark spells, evil spells- but werewolves are technically classed as dark creatures...something to combat the change trigger? Occlumency, I wonder? No that would just hide emotions...not stop someone from changing on full moon. I have to figure out what _changed _when Remus bit me...I have to figure out how to prevent the mutation...)_ he stopped abruptly, turned and stalked out of the Shack, presumably to head straight to the library.

Sirius rolled his eyes, sighed loudly and said, "Well, whilst you two deal with your- hey, Moony! LET ME GO!" He cried, as Remus dragged him firmly out of the door after the Slytherin with a sly remark of, "We need _someone _to fetch food and carry books, Sirius..."

* * *

James was feeling uneasy as he stared up at the ramshackle towers of Hogwarts, the icy cold presence of his guard ever there beside him. Diffidently, he shivered and cast a sideways look at the chilly spectre.

Gormon had been the name jokingly told to his rather pale face when he had first seen his 'escort'. Gormon was not a ghost in the sense of an imprint of soul, more like a bodiless Inferius. Tall, he topped James by two heads at least, and was translucent in appearance. He shone with a phantasmagorical blue light; the edges of his 'body' shining pale duck-egg's blue as if he were lit by a constant blue light from behind. He wore robes and a cowl, and seemed to have no visible weapons. The Department of Mysteries had 'invented' these 'watchers' to watch over lawbreakers on parole. They could become visible at their own will, and were useful for spying on criminals that were only aware of the grave chill they carried with them. The DoM called them "Varden".

Behind Gormon was two others, a slightly shorter female Vard apparently named Gillette, and a nondescript-looking male called Gand. Gillette was to be assigned to guard Wormtail, and Gand, Sirius. Remus had been excused by Dumbledore for the reason that he was unable to control his actions.

He'd been scornful at the beginning of his time back at Hogwarts. Splitting himself from Sirius and refusing to hear his pleas that he honest-to-Merlin regretted his mistake had seemed initially a smart thing to do. With Sirius' betrayal had come the unspoken question of trust. He'd been sure, however, that Remus would side with him. When he hadn't, it had jolted James, and unsettled him.

He still didn't understand why Remus had forgiven Sirius so quickly and painlessly, but now, lonely and tired of Peter's incessant ineptitude and stupidity, he found himself missing the other two Marauders much more than he would have liked to admit. He'd gone to his therapist for advice, and returned feeling sick and dizzy. His mother had kept him home for a few days, and identified a peculiar drug in his system. They couldn't figure out where it had come from, but she had warned him to be cautious of what he ate.

Swallowing his fears, James began walking up to the castle, bag slung over one shoulder. When he reached the gates, McGonagall was there, waiting for them.

The Transfiguration Professor eyed the Varden with no small amount of apprehension, then turned to James and said briskly, "Follow me, Mr Potter."

Wordlessly, James did so. His favourite professor spared him no look, which hurt the Gryffindor. He'd always liked to think that McGonagall had harboured a soft spot for him, and to see her coldness was cutting.

James sighed, heavily. He wanted to go back to the way things were before. He was tired of explaining everything to sycophantic Wormtail, over and over again. He missed joking around with his mates. He hated the cold silence and strained tension in his dorm.

But James didn't know how. Sirius and Remus spent all their time hanging around with _Snape _of all people. He didn't get what they saw in him. Sirius had always hated Snape as much as James did. Remus hadn't, but then, Remus never really hated _anyone. _What was worse was that Evans was still hanging around the git, and it seemed that even that Sirius' brother and his cousin were, incredibly, getting along with her too. James felt splintered off and alone.

They reached the castle then, and McGonagall turned to him. "I expect to see you in Gryffindor tower," she told him in a chilly tone, "All assignments have been delivered to your dormitory." She turned to the Varden hovering behind James' shoulder.

Before she could speak, Gillette spoke flatly, with the odd, hollow inflection all the Varden seemed to have. "My orders are to watch over Mr. Peter Pettigrew." Gand added behind her, "My orders are to watch over Mr. Sirius Black."

"Ah, yes of course," said McGonagall, "I-"

"We are able of discerning their locations," she was told coldly, and then Gand and Gillette appeared to shimmer out of view. James felt a slight hint of warmth returning to his back.

"Can you hide yourself?" he asked Gormon. The Vard looked at him. Before James' eyes, he seemed to fade into nothingness, although the coldness he associated with Gormon did not leave.

Clearly put out, McGonagall nodded sharply to James and stalked off. James walked up to Gryffindor tower, Gormon trailing after him.

The portraits whispered and pointed as he passed, their scornful eyes following him. He swallowed, again.

It was lunch hour, so everyone was probably in the Great Hall. He thanked Merlin for that privacy. It was Thursday today, so he'd have the weekend soon to catch up on all his homework.

He didn't think it was a particularly wise idea to 'forget' it when he'd only just got back. A troublemaker he may be, and proud of it, but stupid he was not.

When he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, he suddenly realised he didn't know the passphrase.

"Password?" asked the Fat Lady airily.

He looked at her. "I don't know it."

"Then you can't come in," she said firmly.

"But I'm a Gryffindor...you've seen me around before," he tried. He didn't want to wait for someone to come up to him.

"No password, no entrance," the Fat Lady reiterated smugly.

James sighed and slumped against the wall. "Suppose you're not going to help?" he asked the chilly area that most likely contained Gormon. There was no reply.

He'd just begun routing in his bag for his schoolbooks to read when footsteps sounded along the corridor. Hopefully, he looked up, and identified shining red hair. Evans.

He leapt to his feet immediately, nearly dropping his schoolbag. Face burning, he threw it over his shoulder and dragged his hand through his hair. "Hey, Evans," he said, trying to sound cool and unbothered.

Evans' mane of red hair parted slightly, and one puffy green eye scanned him wearily. "Potter," she said, though her voice fell flat, and was devoid of the hatred normally spiking it.

"Hey, Evans, are you alright?" he asked her immediately, awkwardly hovering next to her.

She sniffled. He knew something was badly wrong. Evans _never _cried.

"Was it Sniv- err, Snape?" he caught himself just in time. He had no wish to be hexed, especially in the vulnerable state she was in now.

She did not reply. "Balderdash." She said quietly to the Fat Lady, who sympathetically swung open.

He hurried after her, resisting the urge to help her through the portrait hole. She made for the girls dormitories, he headed her off.

"You can tell me," he told her softly in what he hoped sounded gentle and caring, without being smothering. He was painfully aware of his dented and slightly wonky glasses (his mother had refused to take him out to buy new ones) mud-splattered shoes, and red face.

"I don't want to talk," she whispered, but did not attempt to duck around him. Her shoulders were hunched and her dark red hair fell across her face, hiding it from view. Her head was lowered, her stance defeated. She clutched her schoolbag absently, but let it slide from her shoulder even as she spoke.

"Come on," he murmured, and took her by the arm. Gently he propelled her to a seat by the fireplace, removed her bag and put it by her chair, arranged a footstool so she could rest her feet and transfigured his History textbook into a thick red afghan. It did still have occasional names scrawled across it, like _Emeric the Evil, _but was serviceable. He tucked it around her shoulders, and brushed her hair out of her face. She gave him a watery smile, and his heart leapt.

"Floppy!" he called, and with a pop, a house elf appeared. Evans made a short yelp of surprise.

"Yes, Master James?" the house elf asked him brightly.

"Can you get me and...er..." he stuttered, his face burning. _Merlin Potter, get a hold of yourself!_ "...Lily some tea, please?"

"Yes Master James!" Floppy disappeared and reappeared with a large silver tray of tea and scones. Thanking the elf, James pulled a chair up to Evans and put a table in front of them, which he placed the tray carefully onto.

"Sugar?" he asked.

"No thank you," she replied. He thought maybe she looked slightly less depressed than before. Probably just wishful thinking.

He poured her the tea and handed it her. She cupped the hot china with both hands. He made himself some, and set it down on the table. "Tell me who made you cry, so I can punch their face in. Unless they're very big, very tall and likely to beat this poor Gryffindor into the floor." he joked, his eyes holding hers.

She forced a weak chuckle, but it didn't look at all as if she meant it. "I..." she sighed, and took a sip of the tea. It was still scalding, she made an adorable face. "Ow. Sev...well..."  
"So it was Snape then?" James demanded furiously, rising to his feet. He'd find that little piece of-

"Potter! Er...James!"

The shock of hearing his name from her lips halted him in his tracks. He couldn't help the slightly foolish grin that stretched over his mouth. He spun round and looked at her. She was as red-faced as he probably was, and her voluminous red hair had fallen in front of her face again.

He perched awkwardly on the arm of her chair. "Why not?" he cajoled quietly. "What'd he do?"

Lily's shoulders began to shake. "He...called...he called..." she whispered, "He called me a _mudblood."_

James' fists slowly clenched. He forced down the righteous wrath and intoned a sharp, "Why can't I kill him?"

Lily appeared not to have heard him. "I thought...I thought he wasn't going to be a death-eater anymore...he hasn't been talking about anything dark, it just hoped...I thought he...valued me enough to not choose some elitist cult that will hunt me down and kill me! Were they pretending?" she sobbed. It seemed as if the admission had opened a floodgate in her. "And Regulus, I don't know...god, were they just...humour the filthy mudblood!" she snarled bitterly.

"You are not a filthy mudblood!" James shouted, unable to help himself. She blinked and looked up at him, startled out of her weeping fit by the sudden cry. He couldn't help but feel his cheeks tinge warmly. "You are not a filthy mudblood. You are..." he searched for words. "Kind, you're beautiful, you stick up for everything you believe in, you're fiery, spirited, really damn good at potions, clever, funny, and if they can't see that, then they're the bloody idiots, not you! Anyway, why should you _want," _and he winced, because he was deliberately insulting his own family, "To be an inbred, maniacal, society-obsessed _bitch _like all these pureblood families breed?" _Sorry, mum._

Tears shone in her green eyes. Awkwardly, he shuffled closer and extended his arm over her shoulder. She stiffened at first, but eventually relaxed her tension, and leaned into him. James thought his heart may as well jump out of his mouth already; it seemed to have taken up permanent residence there.

"Thanks," she murmured. "I...just...why, James?" she asked him plaintively. He slid into her chair, awkwardly pushing her up a bit, and wrapped his arms around her. She leaned against him gratefully, and her tears soaked through his shirt. He didn't know how long he simply _held _her, but eventually, her tears stopped, and her breathing evened out.

She'd fallen asleep. Releasing a soft sigh and marvelling at how fate loved him, he tenderly brushed the hair off her face and wrapped her up in the afghan. He couldn't take her up to her dorm, but he could and did arrange her carefully on the sofa, and placed a few privacy charms to keep out the noise of everyone else once they came in. He stroked her shining hair, and daringly pressed a kiss to her head. He would never do so if she was awake.

Then he got up, and determinedly made for the Slytherin dungeons.

There wouldn't be anything left of Snivellus once James had finished with him.

* * *

**Okay, I admit it. "Varden" comes from Christopher Paolini's **_**Inheritance Cycle. **_**It means 'watchers'.**

**Cora- It would definitely cause some problems. There is always a cause and effect. I must admit, I was kind of hoping someone would ask for Reg/Cissa/Lily in the hundredth review challenge. But the challenge stands at the moment of Lupin's first use of the Wolfsbane potion, written for Lupinescence. **

**Guest- I'm glad you liked Rott, because she could become quite a major character. I deem you the esteemed right of coming up with a ship name, because that ship's gonna sail! (I'm sorry, that's what my friend says all the time, I couldn't help myself, lol) Don't give up on Snily...just yet.**

**Madlenita- I never expected all of you to not know who the panther was. It surprises me that you didn't all guess immediately whom they were. I guess I didn't pick as good animals as I thought I did...hmm.**


	15. Eldest

**Unfortunately, there are now two of you called 'Guest' that review...So I apologise if whom I am speaking to is unclear.**

**Guest – **_**"Nooo: ( I want potter to suffer eternally now, stealing lily." **_**I love that everyone assumes Lily is stolen the moment she allows James to show her kindness...**

**Marietta- Lol, now there would be an uncomfortable situation! Overly optimistic to hope James or Sirius will **_**ever **_**grow up.**

**Madlenita- No need to worry about it. ;)**

**Cora- I'm going to love writing the double a**-kicking James is going to get. Maybe. I was thinking about some more Reg/Cissa/Lily- I give you the esteemed honour of coming up with a ship name...**_**because that ship has sailed.**_

**Guest- **_**"Thanks for your answer to my review. I really like the new chap but james does really need someone who punches him back to the ground. So now to rott...im happy to hear there is an hope and she is soon back again? Maybe as a teacher? A name for sev and rott? Sevrot? Sevoted? You can choose." **_**What about Rottus, lol. I just cannot imagine Rott as a teacher. She would eat the students.**

Chapter Fifteen

"_**I agree that it's important to be of a virtuous nature, but I would also contend that if you had to choose between giving a man a noble disposition or teaching him to think clearly, you'd do better to teach him to think clearly. Too many problems in this world are caused by men with noble dispositions and clouded minds."**____**  
**__**―**__** Oromis in Eldest, by **__**Christopher Paolini**__**,**___

As she lay enclosed within the warmth of Potter's transfigured afghan, the tension left Lily's body, and she relaxed, her breathing slowing, her skin losing all colour. She was deep into the sleep of a dreaming trance.

_She came to with a start. Her eyes flew open. She found herself in a too-bright green forest. The sky through the latticed tree branches was pale grey. The trunks of the trees were vivid green and white, as if someone had taken a photo of a forest of birches and turned up the brightness to unreality. The forest floor was mulchy pine. The towering trees swayed above her._

_She looked down at herself and saw herself in an unfamiliar outfit of wolf pelts and deer skin. Her red hair was snarled with pine needles, as if she'd been thrashing around on the ground._

_Carefully, Lily pulled herself to her feet. She grabbed a trunk as a vicious dizziness yanked the world around her as if it were a rug pulled under her feet. The trunk felt wet and mossy under her grasp. A snuffling sound alerted her that she was not alone. A low growl came from somewhere. Lily jumped, the dizziness caught her, and she fell ungracefully to her backside onto the damp ground._

_A pair of flashing eyes observed her through the darkness between the branches. She stared up at them. They were brilliant white, like someone had put ice into eyes. To her astonishment, one white eye closed in a wink._

"_Who's there?" Lily asked. Her voice wavered only a slight bit as she drew on her Gryffindor courage._

_Another slow growl. A black nose appeared out of the darkness, followed by an elegant feline head. It was a panther, as black as night. _

"_Err...hello," said Lily awkwardly. With a coughing growl that reminded Lily of laughter, the panther leapt out of the tree and landed silently next to her. A rasping tongue licked her cheek. Lily wonderingly ran her hand through the panther's silky soft fur. It purred._

_A bark. A slim, ebony wolf eyed her warily from the treeline. The panther emitted a clearly imperative sound, and the wolf cautiously approached. A cold nose found her cheek, and Lily laughed. The wolf had black eyes. She ran a hand through its heavy ruff. It jerked away from her touch, but sank down next to her, and laid its heavy head on her lap._

_The panther got up, and walked away, the tip of the black tail swaying slightly as it vanished._

"_Where did...er..." it seemed disrespectful to call the majestic creature an it, but Lily had no way of telling what sex it was. _

_It barely seemed a moment before the panther reappeared, leading two wolves and a dog. The dog bounced along, its jaws slack in an animal grin, its cheerful dark eyes sparkling. One of the wolves was brown, the only colour amid all three black pelts. Its weary buttercup yellow eyes seemed to brighten as it looked on her, and with an enthusiasm matched only by the black dog, it hurried to her._

"_Who are you?" she murmured. They all looked so familiar, gazing at her with expectant eyes as if waiting for her to name them._

_Gently, the panther leaned forward and nudged her head to regard the shadows to the left of her._

_Two burning golden pinpricks of light hesitated there. Sudden premonition slammed into her gut, and she scrambled to her feet. The slim black-eyed wolf had already moved, like quicksilver, to stand beside the panther. The four of them looked at her with mournful eyes, but she could not look back. Her gaze was fixed, as if bewitched on those golden eyes, as slowly, the large black wolf stepped into the light. _

_His fur was long, and there was blood on his muzzle. He looked unkempt. "Why are you haunting me?" she asked it, stepping backwards. Another tentative step. The wolf regarded her with sad golden eyes._

"_WHY ARE YOU HAUNTING ME!" she screamed, and turned. She ran, as fast as she could, towards the light rapidly approaching. Behind her came a wolf's howl, mocking her._

_Suddenly, the light was everywhere and- _

Lily woke up screaming!

Firm hands pressed her shoulders down, and a familiar voice murmured soothing words. A glass bottle was at her lips. "...Miss Evans..."

"_Lily!"_

"Calming draught..."

"_Lily!"_

"...fine..."

"_Lily!"_

Obediently she found herself swallowing the draught, her breathing fast as if she had run a race. The draught began to work, and she relaxed. She observed Madam Pomfrey. The mediwitch was clinking bottles, administering a Pepperup. The covers were twisted over Lily's body.

"Why..." her voice cracked. "Why am I here?" With each word spoken, her traitorous voice gained strength.

"That," said Madam Pomfrey, "is a good question." The mediwitch stared at her. "You apparently were found in a coma in the Gryffindor common room, asleep."

"How long was I asleep?" asked Lily, filing that comment away for further inspection later.

"All afternoon," replied Madam Pomfrey, "It's eight o clock. Pm." She clarified.

Lily blinked. But it had barely been one when she'd gone back to the common room, unable to bear not looking at her best- no, her _ex_-best-friend, yet feeling his stare on her. _Why _had Sev gone back to those horrible Slytherins?

And then Potter had come in, comforted her, and strangely made everything seem alright for a short moment...and then darkness. A strange darkness that seemed to morph and change, and then a panther's winking white eyes.

"I've had these dreams before," she murmured, but Madam Pomfrey heard her.

"You were dreaming?" she questioned.

"Yes. They're always in the same place, a forest. There's a panther, three wolves, sometimes a stag, and a dog. One of the wolves..." she swallowed. "One of the wolves keeps following me. He looks so sad. I don't understand them...They all seem to know me, and I feel like I can recognise them, but there's just something...some kind of _block _in my thoughts." She looked up at the mediwitch and felt a great weight leave her shoulders. It was good to finally confide in someone.

"Clearly," said Madam Pomfrey, "These dreams are more than dreams. I must confess I have not heard of a case such as yours before...All I can advise is try to get as much sleep as possible so the dreams come to you in your natural sleep and do not interfere with your waking life. I don't believe these are harmful to you. Have you been sleeping well?"

Lily avoided her eyes. "Not last night..." She'd been up till the early hours of the morning, fretting about Regulus, agonising over Severus, worrying about the dreams...

Pomfrey tutted. "If you ever find yourself unable to sleep or if you should have another of these dreams, come to me. Right, I can find nothing out of the ordinary wrong with you," Lily cracked a weak smile at that, "So you're free to go."

"Please, Madam Pomfrey..." said Lily as she climbed out of bed, "Is Regulus alright? Regulus Black?"

Pomfrey's face darkened. Her tone was falsely bright as she answered, "He'll be fine, dear, just a mishap with the Forbidden Forest...now off with you."

As Lily walked out of the hospital wing, she glimpsed Narcissa Black's blonde head turning to face her, and the tearstains over her pale cheeks and the desolation in her grey eyes that said maybe, things weren't as alright as Madam Pomfrey said they were.

((()))

James was frustrated.

He was forced to conclude that Severus Snape was _impossible _to find. _(Are you sure you're trying?) _He sighed, and leaned against a wall to watch sun sinking below the mountains. It was getting close to curfew, and he could not find the greaseball anywhere. _(Couldn't you?)_

_I can always make him pay tomorrow, _he thought to himself consolingly, but the thought was as annoying as it was comforting. He would have liked to been able to present Lily with her vengeance at breakfast tomorrow, and that meant he'd have to wait at most another day. _(Yeah, Lily always went for bullies. (_I'm not a bully!) _You single out those who are weaker than you and torment them. (_That's not true!) _Isn't it?)_

As he lamented, a curious procession on the lawns caught his eye. A broad figure leading two others, towards a whipping tree...

It was full moon...of course. James felt a sudden, savage fear for Moony. He remembered all too well what had happened to Prongs when Snape-turned-werewolf had attacked. His back ached in memory.

He hesitated. Remus had started hanging around with Snape, along withSirius. But it had been Sirius that had betrayed Remus, not James. James could not understand Remus' avoidance of him, nor his continued friendship with Sirius. (_Don't you?) _Nonetheless, he had always counted the werewolf amongst his friends, for so long..._(You just can't bear to be alone.)_

They didn't understand, he consoled himself. Snape had fooled them by pretending to be nice, but he was just luring them into a trap, but eventually he'd slip up. He was a Slytherin. (_And being a Slytherin automatically makes you evil? Like your mother? (_She's different!) _Is she?)_

And then they'd see that they were wrong about the slimeball, and go back to being friends with James. _(Are you sure?)_

He couldn't let Moony die. Not at the claws of Snape. He _knew _Snape was a savage beast, beyond Moony. The other werewolf would destroy him.

Just, however, as he prepared to follow them, a bitter cold iciness slammed down onto his shoulder and Gormon shimmered into view.

"Mr. J.C. Potter, you are restricted from going outside any time after five-o-clock on the nights of full moon. You are restricted from contact with Mr. S.T. Snape and Mr. R.J. Lupin at these aforementioned times. You are restricted from breaking curfew." The cold, hollow voice instructed him. "You will now be escorted back to the Gryffindor House common room."

The Vard gripped his arm in a bruising grip and continued to yank James down the corridor, ignoring the Gryffindor's pained yelps or his desperate exclamations, "_Snape will rip Remus apart- I have to help them!"_

((()))

"Are you alright, Reggie?" Narcissa asked her cousin privately. They were alone; Madam Pomfrey had discharged Regulus from the hospital wing. They were now on their way to the Place.

"I'm fine, Cissa," Regulus replied, with a tired smile. Had there been anyone else anywhere close, neither of them would have dared to use their very private nicknames. Every Black had one.

"Are you sure?" Narcissa persisted. Regulus rolled his eyes at her and she smacked him upside the head. He yelped. "I'm not now!"

"Shut up, you big baby..." Narcissa smirked, reassured. Just then, they heard a quiet bark and Padfoot bounded up to them. Regulus patted his brother's head. "Hey Siri."

Sirius barked. He nosed Regulus, his dark eyes concerned. "I'm fine!" Regulus insisted, throwing his hands up. "Stop stressing- he wasn't even turned!"

"He's still dangerous, Reggie," Narcissa reminded him. "He could have killed you."  
"What a way to go," Regulus sighed, "'Here Lies Regulus Black, Mauled To Death By Blood-Hungry Best Friend.'"

Sirius made a coughing growl that may have been laughter.

"Not funny!" Narcissa demanded. "It's true- he could have killed-"

"No," said Regulus, putting his hands up. "He couldn't have. What does concern me is the student reaction..."

With a barking laugh, Sirius transformed. "You do have to agree they're funny, aren't they, brother?"

Narcissa grumbled. "I would hardly say-"

"Lighten up, Cissa," Regulus snickered, "They _are _quite funny."

They had reached the Place. Courteously, Regulus made to hold the tapestry open for his cousin, but before he could, Sirius rudely barged past him. "Ladies first," mocked Narcissa dryly.

"Age before beauty," Regulus added as he followed Sirius. Sirius pouted. The other Blacks snickered.

"Anyway," sighed Narcissa, "I would hardly say that Slytherins having a suppressed 'animal tendencies' makes for a good rumour."

Regulus winked salaciously at his cousin, who could not restrain her snicker as he purred, "Cissa, that's not a rumour."

Sirius laughed. "Alongside the rumours that you two were abusing Lily?"

The twinkle in Narcissa's eyes faded. "Do any of you know what was wrong with her? I saw her in the Hospital Wing..."

"She collapsed," Sirius answered. "We found her dead-looking on the sofa in the common room." At their questioning glance, he elaborated, "Me and Remus." He gave an exaggerated sigh. "Snape's gone mental, he thinks he can single-handedly create a cure for lycanthropy...Remus and I only just managed to escape."

"I think Severus pissed her off," Regulus chipped in. "Well," he said defensively as Sirius raised an eyebrow at him, "He looked as grim as hell when he came to visit me, and as soon as Lily came in, he hovered awkwardly and then stormed out."

"I must have missed that..." Narcissa said contemplatively. Her grey eyes glittered and a strange smirk stretched over her face as events slotted together in her mind. Sirius gave her a startled look, her lips twitched.

"I convinced you to go to dinner, but Severus didn't want to eat because it was full moon," replied Regulus.

"And I was with Moony," Sirius said brightly, "He was a nervous wreck." Despite the happy-go-lucky attitude, his brother and cousin could clearly see the frantic worry that was eating Sirius up inside. It was the first moon with Remus and Severus together -despite the accidental change they had had earlier- Sirius was terrified for his friend.

"Severus won't kill him." Regulus reassured him. "I think you worked that out with them."

"Not just Severus you have to worry about," Narcissa said grimly. _She _did not make the mistake of forgetting however mild Remus' human nature, beneath lurked all the angriness of a wild animal.

Sirius shuddered. By mutual consent, the other two decided to not talk further of it. "Anyway, I heard you got a new guard, Siri," said Narcissa, changing the topic.

Sirius nodded with a sparkle of a prankster's smile. "Turns out it's relatively easy to give him the slip as Padfoot. He's one of those Varden."

Regulus shuddered. "I hate them...soulless ass-" _"Regulus Arcturus Black!" _"-Sorry Cissa-Remember when mum set them on you when you were seven?"

Sirius shuddered and nodded.

"Talking about Padfoot," said Narcissa, "We may as well get on with what we actually came here for, shouldn't we? It is our last chance to practice together."

A shadow crossed Sirius' face. None of them needed to mention the upcoming Christmas holidays at the end of the week, and none to question Sirius coming home. He would never, but Regulus could not force himself to stay away and Narcissa had no excuse...Both Slytherins were torn over their dual loyalties. Their pride remained with their House, and their loyalty with their family...But Sirius was family, too, and becoming a werewolf did not turn one's friends into mindless beasts...But whom to choose? And how to survive through a long Yuletide at their perceptive, Slytherin family's side, without their new secrets being revealed? Regulus and Narcissa Black would have to draw on every ounce of Slytherin cunning, courage and intelligence to wriggle their way through...

Regulus nodded, eager to change the subject all their minds had gone down.

"Alright," agreed Sirius. "When we became Animagi, it took us forever to find out what our animals were, and then we had to learn all about their physiology, and their behaviour in the wild. If you act different to everyone else, all the other animals will know you're not one of them and target you. Doesn't matter so much if you're a dog like me, but if you're a stag, for example..." His voice trailed off, and then abruptly he continued talking, much too quickly.

Regulus couldn't help the brief scowl at the mention of James Potter. Though his betrayal had forced Sirius to reconcile with his family, it had also hurt loyal Sirius. Regulus would very much like to _crucio _James into incoherency. However, a ticket to Azkaban _would not _aid his designs.

His designs, as ever- remain alive, help Severus, and maybe, help Lily? She could not help it if her muggle-raised mind was filled with prejudice by the other Gryffindors. She could be a decent person...her Gryffindor views just needed to be...worked on.

"And then after that, we had to figure out how to make ourselves turn into our animals, and then how to keep our clothes and possessions, and then practice on _keeping _the forms...basically, a long time. But," and now Sirius grinned, "you have me this time."

"Is that supposed to be a good thing?" Narcissa asked wryly. Sirius mock-glared at her, melodramatically clutching his hand to his heart.

"Anyway, we figured out in hindsight how to do it so much faster. Can you cast a Patronus?" Sirius asked, when Regulus rolled his eyes and Narcissa tapped one slender finger against her arm in impatience, gloating in his superior role.

"No," said Regulus. "What's a Patronus?"

Narcissa shrugged and said, "No idea. Mother never told me, and if it was in DADA it was dull as a mu- err," she caught herself before uttering the common pureblood saying."Erm, dull."

"Patroni are magical constructs made of pure happiness. Most dark witches and wizards can't cast them, it relies on a memory of pure happiness to draw it from. Most often they're used to drive off Dementors," Sirius parroted, clearly from some book. In a tone more like his own, he continued, "Patroni are like your...soul animal? The animal that resonates most with _you. _It's individual to each person, though if someone loves another person very much, their Patronus can change to reflect that. Mine, for example, is a dog. _Expecto Patronem!" _

From the end of Sirius' wand erupted a dog made of pure light, which ran around the room, barking happily, before dissolving into nothingness. Regulus gaped. Narcissa tapped his chin, and sheepishly he closed his mouth. Sirius looked very smug to have impressed them.

"Is it learned in seventh year, then?" asked Narcissa.

Sirius shrugged. "As far as I know, it's not on the curriculum at all. It's an advanced spell." He sounded unconcerned.

"And if we learn how to cast these Patroni," said Regulus, "That will tell us what our animagus forms are?" His mind whirred. If this Patronus was so useful, why had it not been a part of his prior-Hogwarts education?

Sirius nodded briefly, and grinned, running his hand through his hair.

"Right then," said Narcissa firmly, "How do you cast it?"

"Find a memory that fills you with happiness..." began Sirius, with a long-suffering sigh. He began to wonder if teaching his stubborn relatives to become animagi was such a good idea at all...


	16. Inheritance, CP

**I'm sorry for not doing more...Heh, you guys have spoiled me with your excellent reviews. I got five this time and felt disappointed. ;) Then I realised how awesome it was to get five anyway- no one seems to ever review on this fandom, lol.**

**Madlenita- Sure, are you? Well, don't go giving it away! To be perfectly honest, I never tried to hide whom the panther, the black wolf number two that is not blindingly obviously Snape, and the other ones were...I always thought you would all guess whom they were immediately. Apparently, I didn't choose animals as well as I thought I did. There I sat, priding myself on thinking, **_**oh yeah, these are fantastic choices- everyone will see what I mean! **_**Only for it to fail, epically. So I decided to play coy with it and wait for you all to guess.**

**Cora- I loved your review, as always. Your little rant about how I get you in my character's heads is wonderful, perhaps undeserved praise, thanks. I'm thankful that you can see that they're not perfect...I have been trying. I'm thinking of making Lily more of the moral messiah. The extent of vitriolic hate I get about her is slightly alarming, and I would adore imagining the looks on your faces if Lily turns out to be the perfect angel, all along...Wizarding equivalent of Hitler? (Grindlewald?) Well, who wouldn't want a mass-murdering, mental psychopath for a lover? Exactly! Some people are **_**so **_**judgemental. Never happy. I mean, all Voldemort needed was a little loving.**

**I really liked Puremud. As in, their relationship...is pure mud. Lol. I'm planning to put in a little puremud in quite soon, so get your OTP glasses out...does anyone still have those? I think people like Snily just because...well, it's the classic story, isn't it? **

**Spurned Severus, dark but still loyal to Lily after all these years, and Lily, legendarily beautiful, and James, by all accounts, handsome, brave, the perfect knight, surely? I sometimes think the entire Harry Potter books are based on that love triangle...every way you turn, there is another misrepresentation of Snape, another heroic deed of James, and beneath it all, the layer of dirt and rust no one bothers to uncover. ;) **

**So what if Severus probably murdered thousands of innocent people? "**_**James drove him to it!" **_**So what if James was perfectly capable of being just as mean, just as nasty as a playground bully? **_**"He knew what Snape would become! He was a git, anyway!" **_**So what if Lily wasn't perfect? **_**"You're all haters, anyway."**_

**What I love best in the world, is watching a Snily fan and a Jily fan argue with one another. It is the funniest thing on earth...**

_**Snily + James = Jily + Death-EaterANGST-OH-MERLIN-MY-LIFE-IS-TOTALLY-OVER -LETS-GO- SPY-FOR-THE-TWO-MOST-DANGEROUS-PEOPLE-ON-EARTH-YAY !**_

Chapter Sixteen

"_**Roran continued to hold him as the life drained out of him, their embrace as intimate as any lovers'. Though the man had tried to kill him, and though Roran knew nothing about him besides that fact, he could not help but feel a sense of terrible closeness to him. Here was another human being- another living, thinking creature- whose life was ending because of what he had done."**_

– _**Inheritance, Christopher Paolini**_

I walked alone like a howl-wail-dead-ghost twixt the tall-spike-leaf-trees. I was careful-quiet-silent, placing each soft-careful-paw with delicate precision. My eyes searched the spike-tall-tree-forest before me, my sharp-sound-ears were constantly swivelling to catch the slightest move-prey-noise, and my sniff-scent-nose was finely tuned to the wood-winter-scents-around-me.

Some sharp-thorn-knot-brambles caught my pale-snuggly-warm coat. I pulled myself free with the hint of a curled-warning-snarl-lip. _No sound._

I was the perfect hunter.

My warm-coat, white as the cold-wet-white-snow that covered the winter-cold-ground, blended seamlessly with my surroundings, especially once I had rubbed myself in dirt-frost-leaf-twigs to conceal my wolf-predator-scent from my more intelligent-winter-prey-roamers-that-could-smell.

I was the queen of these woods, and all knew it.

Who could match me? I was born to this.

I was not hunting today. My belly was not spike-sharp-hungry-paining, and I was not warm-full-sleepy, and I didn't want to sleep-soft-quiet-dark, and I had no love-family-pack-brothers-and-sisters to run with today. I did not mind. I liked the solitude...as unnatural for a wolf as that was.

I shivered, and pulled my thoughts from such _human _ponderings, and returned to my stalk.

A twig cracked.

My head snapped up, and my nose was sniffing, immediately identifying wolf-brother-pack-mate. An image pressed into my mind, _blood-and-ripped-flesh-on-the-rocks-wet-scarlet-lo vely. _I pushed one back, _rotten-broken-branch-in-wintertime-dusted-with-sno w. _

Flesh-on-the-Rocks appeared from between the trees, his tree-light-brown coat speckled with cold-wet-white-snow, his muzzle scarlet with blood from a fresh-hunt-kill. I held my head high and my tail erect; a silent challenge.

Even furious Flesh-on-the-Rocks knew better than to challenge me, I, with my cold calculation and years of tooth-claw-experience could easily defeat him. He lowered his angry-blaze-gold-eyes and looked away, his tail close to his quick-fast-legs. I padded on, Flesh-on-the-Rocks following me silently.

He pressed an image to me of a prey-weak-doe with her warm-living-belly torn-ripped out, and an added image of Flesh-on-the-Rocks eating from the flesh of his red-hot-warm-kill. It contained a questioning thought, _rotted-branch-in-wintertime-sharp-spike-stabbing-h ungry-doe-prey? _

I rejected the query with a snap of my sharp-ripping-teeth.

Oddly, it made me think of _blood-in-the-sky-arcing-like-a-scarlet-fountain. _Blood-in-the-Sky would have known to leave me to my silence. He was silent too, with his dark fur- always snow-kissed, sharp-ripping-teeth-always-white, and careful-hunter-predator-quiet. Blood-in-the-Sky understood that life was always a hunt.

Thinking of him reminded me of my weakness, and I snarled, immediately turning around. I was close to the icy-blue-water-lake, and far from human-weak-stinking-house.

I hated the soft-flat-face-prey-humans with their stupidity and weakness. Far better, I knew, to be a hunter, a predator, as I was born to be.

I tried to drag my stupid-human-weak-thoughts from him, but they kept returning. My weakness grew, like a sharp-pointy ice-wedge driven into my broken-bruised-heart, forcing me apart, making a pouring-torrent-flood of weak-stupid-human-thoughts gush in.

I began to quick-paw-run, feeling the dreaded shake-shivers start at the base of my spine. I remembered how he shifted, fast and painless, snapping between one form and the next like stupid-weak-humans-snapped-their-long-fingers.

I remembered how he had looked when he had first started change-skin-shedding-shifting, clinging to my bony-pale-human-shoulders and whimpering, begging me to stop it, _he didn't want to be a monster, he didn't mean to, _and how his dark-beautiful-eyes, glazing over with powerful-wolf-gold had bored into mine, frantic with loss-hope-desperation, and how I had leaned down next to him, pressed my delicate-human-lips to his round-ear and whispered, _"lose yourself to it, give up, give in..."_

And how he had.

How he had burst from that weak-human-skin, all fury and snarling, and how for a single moment, that ball of fur and hatred had hung in my grasp, and in that moment, I had looked into his quick-angry-eyes and seen something that I had never seen before- _intelligence._

Every werewolf lost their minds to their wolves. It was a fact the wizards thought they knew.

Oh, he was not _Severus, _instinctively, I snarled at the stupid human name- he was Blood-in-the-Sky, strong, wild, free, but he was _sane._

The pain!

The wracked shake-shivers increased, my paws stopped running, I skidded, howling...screaming, as my voice found higher vocal cords, as my spine snapped up, as my face found unfamiliar shapes...

And I was back in the hated form, the weak, powerless human body. Flesh-on-the-Rocks had fled, most likely from my unfamiliar-sharp-human-scent.

I stayed on my hands on knees for a moment, panting, before I raised my head, my blond hair falling around my face. A hand entered my field of vision. I stared at the owner of it. Bloody-Bone-in-my-Jaws, redheaded-massive, thought of Blood-in-the-Sky, dark-passionate-stealthy, and felt like I was being torn in two.

_Weakness. _I hated how weak this human body made me. I hated how weak he made me.

I rejected the hand with a snap of my flat-dull-teeth, pulled myself wearily up...and up...and up. It always surprised me how tall this hated body was. I caught hold of a stick-tree-branch to steady myself.

I glared in disgust at the pale-skin and the fur-that-was-not-fur on my legs and arms. It was a poor imitation of how I should be. Bloody-Bone-in-my-Jaws politely averted his wolf-gold-eyes, but I did not care. I walked towards the human-den-house looming out of the sharp-pointy-stick-trees, forcing myself not to wince as my soft-pad-feet hurt on sharp-stabbing-rocks and tree-sharp-twigs.

I stared at the door-open-entrance of the human-den-house for a moment, and then remembered how to operate it and pushed it open. They were in there, my pack-brothers-and-sisters. They were not wolves, but they were enough.

Fire-in-the-Darkness and Grey-Stone were playing a card-game-that-kept-exploding. Next to them, Snow-in-the-Ground watched the game avidly, and by his side, Sunlight-Through-the-Leaves curled up with a chicken-scratch-word-book. Rain-Rolling-over-the-Mountains, massive-silent, glowered into the weak fire. Even Blood-Running-in-the-Stream, vicious-tormented, sat silently in the most shadowed armchair. Bloody-Bone-in-My-Jaws ducked past her and into the kitchen, where he began banging pots and pans.

_Eight of us, in all, _I thought. That left only Flesh-on-the-Rocks, who was too weak to claim his own mind, and Blood-in-the-Sky, who thought himself better, who thought himself a true wizard.

I snorted. _Men._

They stared at me a little as I walked bold-brazenly through the human-den-room. I met their curious-fleeting-stares with a little curl of my lip. I felt no sharp-prickle-shame in them seeing me. The only shame was wearing this skin.

I padded towards my nest-den-room, intending to dress, but then paused and instead went to a door a little way down.

I stopped in front of Blood-in-the-Sky's nest-den, feeling a strange amount of unfamiliar-prickle-scare-nervousness. Cautious-silent-quietly, I pushed the door open and went inside.

The air tasted still-quiet-grave-untouched. It was exactly as he had left it, in a disorganised-panic-rush, when he found he was going back to his wizard-school. The sleep-bedcovers were uncared-rumpled, and there was a fine layer of dust on the bare-wood-tree-shelves.

I went to the wood-tree-drawers and clothed myself in a simple rough-sack-shirt and trousers, and then curled into his nest-bed. It still smelled of _blood-arcing-in-the-sky-like-a-ruby-rainfall, _the unique scent of my packmate. I considered sleeping away my ache-pain from the shift-change, but suddenly, a strange image caught my eye, resting on a rickety-stool by the nest-bed.

I snatched it up. It was a life-freeze-picture. Apparently the wizard-men could put people into paper and hold them there.

It was in black-white, but I could clearly see the picture of a smiling-happy-girl, with bright-sparkling-eyes, long-flowing-hair, and a delicate-pretty-face. I wondered who she was. Unaccountably, staring at her picture made me feel jealous-angry-slighted, an emotion-thought-feeling that came up entirely too often with Blood-in-the-Sky.

She must have been important-dear to him to keep-safe a life-freeze-picture of her by his bed-nest-side, I thought. A suspicion grew in my mind.

The thoughts of weak-stupid-humans were often incomprehensible-strange to me, but when he had first been change-shifting and had been so scared-frightened-terrible, he would often scream-cry-yell for a _"lihlee" _a _"rehgolus" _or once or twice, in the reaches of agony _"narrrssihsah" _The strange-word-sounds were weird to me, but I knew that often humans used them to communicate-name each other instead of quick-thought-images.

Maybe this was a lihlee, rehgolus or narrrsihsah? The lihlee had been shouted-cried the most. It had almost been his undoubting-litany every dark-moon-night, I would come and find him whisper-murmuring-softly _"lihleelihleelihlee" _into the dark-quiet of his cell-prison.

Was this Blood-in-the-Sky's lihlee?

Unconsciously, I snarled. So this was what the bitch-who-thought-he-was-hers looked like.

At least I knew where to aim my sharp-rip-teeth when I met her.

((()))

The end of the week arrived with the first snowfall, a soft pouring of tiny damp kisses. The ground crunched underneath Sirius' feet as he walked, his thick winter cloak clutched tightly around himself. His hood was drawn up to combat the chill, and beneath it, his grey eyes were uncharacteristically somber.

Sunrise's pinks still coloured the horizon with a faint blush, and the castle behind him was quiet. Most of the students were still asleep. Before him, the Black Lake had begun to freeze over, ice-edged and covered with a thin layer of hoarfrost. As he watched, the squid flailed a tentacle and cracked the fragile surface.

Despite his warm, expensive layers of the finest robes, Sirius shivered. The wintry weather may have reserved its bite in the snows, but it let doubly loose on the wind- harsh, piercing, and bitterly icy, it penetrated his clothes with vicious ease.

He had other things on his mind than the cold, however. Today was the day that the Hogwarts students would depart for the Christmas holidays, and Sirius would be alone.

He was the only one of his group of friends staying. Severus was, with some dismay, going back to his parent's house, though he had planned to return to the Institute. Remus, Cissa and Reg were going as well...Sirius knew only one or two Gryffindors whom were staying...a couple of third-years, several seventh-years...and James.

Sirius was unsure about staying at Hogwarts for Christmas with James. At least the huge castle would be next to deserted and it would be easy to hide from his former best-friend. Not that he would _hide; _of course...Blacks did not hide. They reserved their company.

But still, he would be alone until his friends came back. He was not looking forwards to his upcoming isolation...At least Evans was going home, as well. He didn't think he could deal with the awkward ex-friend-but-still-friends-just-not-with-your-fri end drama that accompanied her. It was even worse with his cousin and brother; they had not spoken to her since the mudblood incident.

_What a stupid thing to do, _Sirius couldn't help but think. Severus had driven her away, yes, but was that such a good thing to do? Sirius couldn't understand it. He dealt with enough _I'm dangerous _rubbish from Remus. Remus was only dangerous during the full moons.

Granted, Severus was dangerous all the time. He had already managed to repel one uprising in Severus' soul when he had first come back to Hogwarts; and his experience with Remus left him confident of his own safety with the newly turned werewolf.

He would never, Sirius knew, get over the chilling ferocity that always lurked beneath the surface of the Slytherin; the coiled power when he moved, the sharp, inhuman gestures, a growl that came to his lips as easily as a swearword would to Sirius, and his _eyes. _Severus Snape truly had changed, and Sirius wasn't sure it was for the better. Yet somehow it was in the quiet desperation that always seemed present when he spoke of being alone that truly convinced Sirius, Severus Snape was a damned child, and he would never forsake those whom were kind to him unless truly there was no other choice.

Sirius' lashes swept his snow-kissed cheek as his dark eyes closed. He came to a halt, not wanting to continue blind.

_How cruel he had been. How selfish...and how blinded. How strongly he had cast his dice._

And there was no scapegoat for him to turn to.

He sighed and pulled his mind from such dark reflections.

"_The past gives no favours but to the dead." _He could not recall where he had heard the words, yet they resonated in his mind, deep and unaccountably serious.

_Siriusly serious. _A faint smile touched his lips at the overused pun. He glanced up at the sky and saw the sun well-risen. A quick tempus confirmed the time, and he turned, heading back to the castle.

Today his friends would leave Sirius alone again. But they would return.

When they did, laughter would brighten the darkest heart, and Sirius would cast of this damn gloomy and deep outlook!  
With a full-grin, he burst through the doors with a wild ululation, shocking a Hufflepuff into dropping her plate. He winked at her as he bounded past and skidded to a stop next to Remus, who shook his head tiredly at his friend's antics.

"Ready to go, Moony?" he asked brightly.

Remus sighed, his brown eyes mournful for a brief flash. "You sound eager for me to be gone, Pads..."

"Of course I'm not!" Sirius protested immediately.

"I'm sorry Sirius. That was badly considered." Remus looked haggard and old, his youthful face lined, his skin pale and sickly, and his never athletic frame gaunter than Sirius had seen it. A fresh scar poked an inquisitive pink line above the lonely werewolf's collar. Moony seemed so serious, so beaten, Sirius couldn't help his own spirits flag in answering.

He remembered the first time Remus had 'taken ill', in first year. Already firm friends, James, Sirius and Peter had sat up that night, and had seen his weariness, his loneliness, his tiredness, and decided to plan a prank- not a mean one, because Remus didn't like those- a prank that would make Remus forget everything that troubled him and laugh.

_Mission Make Remus Laugh, _they had called it, their boyish faces alight with the fervour of pride and excitement. A sad smile touched Sirius' lips. With the threat of a war looming, werewolves, blood, tears and betrayals, it seemed now their mission was more important and dire than ever...

"Hey, Moony," he said buoyantly, faking his own enthusiasm and cheerfulness, "Remember that time when we dyed every Gryffindor's hair green and silver for a week? All the Slytherins got red and gold, and the Ravenclaws yellow and black-"

Remus smiled, and for a moment the darkness was gone. "The Hufflepuffs all in bronze and blue, then you set off those fireworks." he remembered quietly.

The very first 'Make Remus Laugh'. They'd planned it exactly. James went down to the kitchens, and convinced the house elves to let him put charms on the dishes. Sirius went and sorted out fireworks to be released, and Peter, Peter diverted Remus.

Then, they'd all snuck into the Great Hall- and initiated the havoc. Remus had come down just in time to see everyone's hair go vibrantly red, yellow, blue or green, and Peter had set off the fireworks just in time to paint in words of fire- _We Love You Remmy! _Sirius laughed an odd little laugh, remembering Snape's hateful glare under a curtain of angry red that flashed bright gold.

How times had changed.

Lily Evans came up to them, her hair flashing as bright as blood red copper. "Looking forward to the holidays, boys?" she asked.

"I'm going home," said Remus, a delicate sidestep to her question.

Lily looked at him questioningly, one brow raised. He could see the beauty in her. Her thick hair was as dark as blood, twice as shiny and lustrous, and her body well enough formed. No doubt she was pretty, but he could not see what made her so special to James and Severus that they would stick their lives on her...Frankly, Sirius had never thought particularly kindly of Lily. Seeing his best mate get turn down and torn up after every rejection hardly endeared her to him. Granted, the situation was different now.

"I'm staying."

"Right." Lily shifted awkwardly. "I hear Hogwarts is beautiful at Christmas."

"It is," said Sirius flatly.

There was a long, dragging pause. Remus stared at his shoes. Sirius searched the same bit of Hall again and again for his brother. Lily fidgeted with the handle on her trunk.

Finally, a Gryffindor girl named Alice called Lily over for last minute arrangements. Her face as red as the sunset, Lily awkwardly said bye and ran over, clearly glad to back out of the conversation.

Sirius spotted Regulus just as the Slytherin boy gave him a halfhearted wave. He pulled Remus over.

"Hey," he greeted.

"Hello," said Regulus. "Have you seen Narcissa today?"

"No," Sirius replied.

"Oh." Regulus sighed. "I think that Malfoy prick waylaid her again."

"You really don't like him," Remus observed. Regulus looked up at the werewolf.

"No, I don't. He's an ass, and so full of himself," the Black brother spat, his grey eyes darkening with the very mention. "He's got an eye on your inheritance, Sirius."

"My inheritance?" Sirius laughed. "Yours, brother. I vow I'll be kicked out by sixteen."

Regulus' face got a pained look. "Please don't. You're the only passably sane person apart from myself and Narcissa in this family."

"Aww," Sirius mussed his brother's hair. "Sounds like praise." In truth, his heart was breaking.

"Have you seen Severus?" Remus interrupted. "I wanted to ask him something." The Gryffindor looked shifty.

"What?" Sirius asked curiously. Regulus tilted his head, stormy eyes gleaming. Remus glanced away and shuffled nervously. "Nothing much...just a query."

Sirius doubted that, but he decided to let it go. He'd worm it out of Moony later.

Regulus shrugged, and Sirius saw he had reached the same decision as Sirius. He couldn't help the sly smirk. "I've saw him earlier, but I think he went down to the potions classroom. Something about a project." He sighed- an action that looked very feigned to Sirius, he was almost certain Regulus knew exactly where Severus was. "Sorry."

"I'll check there." Remus said, and hurried away.

The Black brothers shared a glance not unlike those of the Marauders. Regulus put his trunk down and wordlessly, the two crept after the werewolf.

They caught up to him halfway down the steps. Sirius put a finger to his lips. Regulus nodded.

They tailed Remus well down into the damp, cold dungeons. Suddenly, they heard a loud, angry voice. Regulus had just managed to drag Sirius behind a tapestry when Narcissa rounded the corner, looking furious. Remus had clearly slipped away. Behind her scurried Lucius Malfoy.

The blonde was handsomely dressed in fine dark green robes, with the sigil of House Malfoy emblazoned on his breast, and his boots had been polished until they shone. His long hair was brushed out, flowing over his shoulders like strands of fine golden wire. His eyes were cold and dead; like chilling fog on a winter's night.

Their cousin was dressed in her customary uniform, her tie carefully knotted at her throat, not a wisp of hair out of place, but for the snarl of rage contorting her face.

"It would do you well to reconsider my offer, Miss Black," Malfoy purred in a voice like rotten flowers and oil. He reached out and caught Narcissa's elbow, preventing her from stalking away.

Narcissa whipped around. "Do not touch me!" she hissed icily, ripping her arm from his grasp.

Malfoy rocked back on his heels, his smug smile unaffected. "You are a clever woman, Narcissa Black," Lucius flattered silkily. "You know what these winds of change bring. And if you are as clever as I know you are, you will know which side to join yourself."

"I know very well what these winds of change bring! Lies," snarled Narcissa. "I will never marry you!"

_Marriage? _Regulus and Sirius exchanged shocked looks. Hot with fury, Sirius made to jump up and defend his cousin, but Regulus yanked his arm harshly and shook his head frantically. Sirius saw the warning in his brother's grey eyes. He struggled furiously against the restraint.

Lucius smiled enigmatically. "We shall see...There shall come a time when you shall look back upon my generosity and thank me for it." A last smug smile, and then the blonde turned and stalked away, leaving Narcissa bristling with impotent rage.

The sixth-year stood there for a moment, rage chiselled harshly into features too delicate and beautiful for such a coarse emotion. Then she sighed, her narrow shoulders sagging, and wearily passed a hand over her brow. Unnoticed beforehand, Sirius saw dark shadows beneath her eyes. Narcissa was not sleeping.

Her head jerked, and she stared directly towards their alcove. Her eyes narrowed, and she drew herself up, regal and imperious. "Come out, whoever you are."

Sheepishly, the two boys revealed themselves. Narcissa stared at them dully. "I suppose you heard all of that," she said.

"Yes!" blustered Sirius immediately. "Who does he think he is-"

"A Malfoy," cut off Narcissa with a cold glare. "And a Death-Eater to be." She started walking, in the direction of the Great Hall.

"Death-Eater?" Regulus sounded part awing, part scared and secretly longing.

"Death-Eater?" Sirius repeated, in a blank confusion. He'd heard of Death-Eaters, the new servants of the new dark lord...

"Servants of the Dark Lord," Narcissa sighed. "According to word, Malfoy's just one of the new recruits, when he turns seventeen next year. He wants me to arrange a betrothal with him."

Regulus slowed and then stopped. "Wouldn't he have to contact Mother and Father directly for that?"

"He has," Narcissa said darkly. "Or is going to."

"Why you?" Sirius questioned. At Narcissa's scathing glare, he added hurriedly, "Not that you're not desirable- but...why you?"  
"Think, Siri," Regulus sighed loudly.

The Gryffindor shrugged. "Enlighten me, oh snakes."  
"The Blacks are a powerful and rich family," Narcissa overrode Regulus' exasperated sigh. "And I am at least partway through succession."

"Bella and 'Meda, me and Reggie," Sirius objected.

"I don't think he thinks you pose a threat to him- riches wise. Regulus I think he thinks will just roll over for him, and believe me, if I did not know that the Malfoys held the more modern method of marriages I would think he would take all three of us Black sisters to wed." Narcissa sighed. "I detest him- slimy snake!" The last two words were a shout.

The other two remained quiet. Narcissa's words troubled Sirius, and reminded him of the gloom he had felt earlier this morning. Suddenly, Regulus said, "Blast. We didn't find out what Lupin was hiding."

"Lupin was hiding something?" Narcissa asked, interested, and Regulus filled her in on Remus' shifty behaviour. Sirius cursed. Narcissa slapped him upside the head for foul language.

_More secrets. _How many would he have to keep? The closer he came to Slytherins, the more his life began to resemble a glittering spiders web...but was he the spider or the fly?

((()))

Remus hurried up the damp passageway. He hoped his friends were still waiting for him up at the Great Hall. He had no wish to go down to the station alone.

He gripped his trunk's handle tightly with one clammy hand, glancing nervously behind him. He hoped they didn't suspect him of anything. A red flush came to his cheeks at the thought. Once Sirius had hold of a mystery, he would shake it between his teeth like a dog with a bone until it yielded its secrets. And Remus had no intention of sharing these particular secrets.

He glanced behind his back so often it felt as if he had developed a nervous twitch. Finally, he entered the Great Hall, and to his relief, saw Regulus, Sirius and Narcissa conversing in quiet, but intense tones at the end of the Hufflepuff table, where they had leaned their trunks.

Just as Remus hurried up, Severus glided into the doors, a mocking smile curling his lips as he saw Remus. "Lupin," said the Slytherin, so softly Remus might have thought it was a whisper of breeze, as he padded past, cat-footed, silent, and prowling.

Remus swallowed, and followed him.

"My friends," Severus murmured when he reached the trio, "the coaches are getting ready to leave...we should go."

"So we should," Narcissa said briskly, checking her watch. "Come on then."

They fell into an automatic formation as they walked. Remus' breath fogged in the open air.

"Remus," said Sirius equally quietly, helping Remus tug his trunk over the rolling stones, "Where did you go earlier?"

"Find Severus," snapped Remus immediately.

Sirius looked hurt at his harsh tone, and Remus sighed. "I'm sorry, Pads."

He did not raise the subject again, for which the werewolf was grateful. When they reached the carriage, Regulus immediately bagged the first coach they came across, and hauled his trunk into it with ease. He turned to help his cousin, but she waved him off, and he took Remus' instead. Remus couldn't help but look at his feet shamefacedly. He _had _been unable to haul his book-laden trunk into the carriage.

Sirius waited awkwardly at the door. When all four of them were safely in, he gave a jerky wave and said weakly, "Well, bye then."

Remus smiled at him. "Bye Padfoot. See you after Christmas."

Sirius grinned. "You better've got me a good present, Moony. Bye snakes!"

Narcissa sighed loudly. "Regulus, can you reach my stupid cousin's face with your foot?"

"Hey!" cried Sirius, mock-offended, "I resent that implication!"

"I'm ashamed we share blood sometimes, Sirius, I really am." Regulus yawned.

When Sirius whined, Severus cut in, "Better than all the time, Sirius."

Remus blinked. That was the first time he had ever heard Severus Snape use Sirius' name. He glanced at the Slytherin, who was in the back, darkest corner of the horse-less carriage.

Snape seemed to know instinctively Remus' gaze was on him, and his glinting dark gold eyes shone from the dimness like two round hunter's moons. His skin was no longer the tanned colour it had been when he had first returned from Norway, (who the hell _tanned _in Norway?) but it had not yet reverted to the sallow, sickly complexion of before. A mocking smile curled the thin lips, and Remus glanced away.

Beside him sat Regulus, so achingly similar to Sirius. Dark grey eyes, stormier than Sirius' laughing pale grey, and raven-wing dark hair that reached his shoulders and brushed over his immaculate white collar, perfectly fastened. Tidy and ordered in a way that Sirius would never be...

Across from them, Narcissa, pale and lovely as a winter's dawn, grey eyes that sparkled blue in some lights. Her long blond hair reached halfway down her narrow back, and had been brushed out to resemble beaten gold. Her skin was as pale as milk, and when she saw Remus watching her, a thin eyebrow arched in question. He looked away, rather than answer, to see Sirius outside the carriage.

The Gryffindor's collar was messy, his tie undone, his robes ill-fastened. He had a mud stain on the hem. His black hair was characteristically messy, and his eyes were sparkling.

"Bye, then," Remus said softly, and Sirius cocked his head, grinning.

"Till school time, my dear Moony!" He bowed melodramatically, making Remus chuckle and a tired smile come to Narcissa's lips. Turning, he slouched away, raising a hand to wave farewell.

The carriage set off with a swaying groan, and began its slow journey down to Hogsmeade Station. Remus sighed and sat back in his seat.

The three Slytherins were as quiet as the grave, their eyes glittering in the darkness. Remus sat, awkwardly quiet, and wished it was light enough for a book. He wondered what Lily was doing. He thought she was sat with the Gryffindor girls Marlene McKinnon and Alice Prewitt. As far as he knew, Lily was only passing friends with Marlene and Alice, having grown apart from them since Severus' leaving, and her subsequent friendship with Narcissa and Regulus. Privately, Remus thought Lily was wired to Slytherins- she responded much better to the snake house than anyone in Gryffindor.

_Though, _he thought wryly, _she does delight in pushing them away just as often, _remembering the reason for the pretty redhead's distance from them.

_So, he called her 'mudblood'. Surely she can see why- even if he didn't follow through with it? _He frowned. _Maybe that's why. _Perhaps she didn't think Severus would ever leave- Hogwarts, by the sound of it, had been the dark Slytherin's only true home, and he was so devoted to Lily it was difficult to imagine Severus ever wilfully separating himself from her...even _before _they had been inseparable as Remus and his wolf. _Maybe she just thought he was saying it truly out of spite._

But why? Did she think that Severus had gone back down the dark path he had been headed not so long ago? He took a sneaking look at Regulus. The Slytherin was impassive. The same path Regulus had been going down? Which side of the war even had their allegiance anymore?

Did Severus still long to join that dark and shadowy cult- the Death Eaters? Or did he now fight for Dumbledore and the Light? Remus very much doubted it. Severus was naturally a dark person. He could not think of Severus casting any incredible light spells, though maybe he would be able to do so. Remus didn't think his love for Lily was entirely platonic, and everyone knew love powered the strongest light spells.

His train of thought halted as the coach did. Remus pulled his trunk out and ascended the platform, followed quickly by his two friends. He caught sight of Wormtail glaring at him sulkily, and looked away. He still could not face James and Peter...without remembering the shock and hurt in James' eyes when he ran to find Sirius, or the deeply-etched pain in Padfoot's own eyes when James had delivered his insults.

Easily, the Slytherins pulled their trunks on the train and disappeared within. Silently, Remus followed them and hesitated at the door of the compartment they had claimed for their own. Narcissa raised an eyebrow at him, standing in the door. Severus looked up, and his honey-warm eyes glittered sharply with amusement. "Come and sit down," Regulus said finally, with some exasperation, "I do not wish for the crowds to descend..."

Awkwardly, Remus obeyed, sliding shut the door behind him.

This friendship did not have the warmth, easy friendliness and light jokes of the Marauders. This friendship- no _alliance, _was cool, polite, and sly- yet within their icy demeanour, Remus sensed the same powerful loyalty.

_How deluded of us, _he thought cynically, _to believe ourselves so separate, we Gryffindor and Slytherins, yet of all, we are the most Hufflepuff-loyal of the houses..._

((()))

They arrived at the station mid-afternoon. Lily craned her head to peer sadly out of the window, consigning herself to another dull Christmas at home with a regretful sigh. She would have stayed, but her mother always kicked up a fuss about Christmas being a time for family, and Lily didn't want to be caught alone in the same castle with Potter, Black and Se- no, _Snape, _anyway. Se- _Snape, _never went home for Christmas.

She swallowed, and tried not to think of why. She didn't _care, _she reminded herself. He was evil, _(Really?) _and dark. And a werewolf. (_So's Lupin.)_

With the other girls she had reluctantly ridden with, she pulled her trunk down from the rack and ascended the platform.

She looked around the crowded platform desperately, yanking her trunk through the masses of treacle-thick wizards and witches come to escort their sons and daughters home. She found her parents eventually, standing alone, uncomfortably. Lily beamed at them, though her smile dropped when she noted the absence of her sister.

_Oh, Tuney._

"Hey honey," her father greeted her, ruffling her auburn hair, hair that he shared. Her mother hugged her quickly, her tired green eyes sparkling at the sight of her daughter.

"We missed you," her mother, Rose Evans, whispered into Lily's ear.

Lily grinned. "I love you too, mum," she said, extracting herself from her mother's grip. "Let's go."

The relief at seeing her parents alive and well was unexpectedly sharp. She was taken aback by its intensity.

Harry Evans frowned. Lily glanced up at him, her heart sinking. She had been eager to leave for this reason exactly.

"What about Severus?" he reminded her.

Lily swallowed. She dreaded explaining to her parents that Severus was not exactly her friend anymore. The Evans' had been ferrying Severus to and fro King's Cross since he and Lily were eleven. They had been best friends since they were nine, and Severus had become almost an honorary Evans.

It broke her heart that he was willing to turn his back on _everything _for just a tattoo and a bond of servitude.

She had thought she had known him better.

"He's catching a ride with some friends," she said hurriedly, but even as she said it, she saw the boy himself step off the train.

Rose's eyes followed Lily's, and saw him. "He-"

"No!" she hissed. Taken aback, her parents stared at her. "Look, some things have changed, he's made friends with some nasty people...you don't understand," she said frantically.

Harry scowled. "Those people you told us about in that house of his? Slithering, or something?"

"Slytherin," she corrected on automatic, "Please!"

At that moment, Severus approached them. He avoided their eyes quickly and tried to move past them. Rose gasped. "What happened to him?"  
Lily stared at her ex-bestfriend, but she could not see the cause of Rose's staring.

"What?" she asked.

The moment passed. So did Severus, politely ignoring them as he slipped past them and through the barrier. Rose Evans eyes followed him, and then snapped back on her daughter with an accusing stare.

Her father's eyes were no different.

"Just what," enunciated her mother softly, "happened?"


End file.
